


There Will Be Blood

by pandachanda



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandachanda/pseuds/pandachanda
Summary: Post-War. Granger and Malfoy are Head Boy and Head Girl. They must coexist and work together. Post-Hogwarts life will be shown. "Why are you telling me all this? Don't you hate me?" "Because you're the only one with a war mark on your wrist like me, it's in our blood."





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: This is my first Harry Potter fanfic so please let me know your thoughts on it! I’ll take your comments into consideration as I continue to write this fic. This is rated M because there will be very explicit sexual content as the chapters go on. I want to give a shoutout to my other half/ Slytherin Queen Dahlia and my best friend/Gryffindor Queen Maricar. Your inputs have been wonderful and so helpful!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to the Harry Potter Franchise. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Happy reading!

Chapter 1: Aftermath

 

September 1, 1998 

Hermione Granger couldn’t remember a time that she was not excited for a first day of school. In her entire 15 years of schooling, she had never been able to sleep the night before the first day. Yet, here she sat on the Hogwarts Express staring out the window, dreading starting her final year. 

Hermione sighed as she watched the first year students board the train. Their air of earnest wonder and expectations just reinforced her dismay. She remembered dreaming of taking the Hogwarts Express wearing a Head Girl badge in this very train seven years. 

Hermione looked down at the badge resting on her blazer; she shook her head and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ron. 

Hermione glanced over at Ron and Harry sharing their flask of firewhisky “Would you believe me if I told you that I don’t care for this badge?,” she asked them.

“Because I know you, no, not really” said Harry, giving Hermione a pointed look.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah no, you used to spend hours talking to Percy about being Head Girl. Don’t tell me that Harry and I had to suffer hours in the library for you, just to have you not want to be Head Girl,” he quipped. 

Hermione threw her scarf at him. “You’re lucky to be alive thanks to me and the library, Ronald.”

“Women! Blimey, you can’t ever win with them” Ron complained to Harry.

“I think that’s just you, Ron” said Harry sympathetically to his friend. 

“Seriously guys, have you thought about how different Hogwarts is going to be? Without Dumbledore, Snape, Fred…?” Hermione glanced at Ron and quickly stopped herself. 

“You can say his name, you know? I won’t break just from hearing Fred” said Ron. He sighed and took a swig from his flask. 

Hermione looked at Harry with concern. “I’ll talk to him,” Harry mouthed to her.

Hermione nodded at him.

She didn’t know what to say Ron. The truth was she wasn’t even sure if Ron and her could even talk to each other without Harry being present. Ron and her had broken up quite quickly after the war. Hermione had initiated their breakup, but she judged from Ron’s reaction that it was very mutual. Even if it hadn’t been mutual, Ron seemed to have no problem moving on to his numerous conquests throughout the summer. 

 

Hermione really couldn’t complain though. This summer had been rough for all three of them. They were each dealing with PTSD from the war and none of them had advice for each other. Ron was just trying to survive any way he could, and it wasn’t her business to judge him. 

The three of them couldn’t escape the war. They had spent the summer at countless trials for Death Eaters, serving as witnesses; they went through hours and hours of grueling testimonies, reliving the horrors that Hermione had tried oh-so-hard to block out. When they weren’t at the ministry, they felt the war at home, with the vacancy of Fred, Remus, and Tonks. 

They were coping in different ways. Harry was coping by visiting Charlie daily over the summer. He raced dragons every day on his Firebolt. The happiest that Hermione had seen him this summer was the day he had gotten his arm burned by a Ukranian Ironbelly.  
Ginny ranted to Hermione that when she had asked Harry about the racing, he said “he needed to challenge Death once and for all.”   
“He’s gone bat-shit crazy! He wants to race a Peruvian Vipertooth next! I’m positive that he lost half of his sanity when Voldemort killed the horcrux in him, Hermione, I swear…” Ginny had ranted for a good twenty minutes but Hermione couldn’t help but to tune her out. She would have laughed but she knew her friend wasn’t really joking. 

Ron was coping with potions, alcohol, and women. Ron couldn’t sleep alone anymore. He kept having nightmares of the war every day and usually screamed for Fred in the middle of the night. After the war, Ron   
suddenly had his pick of women in the wizarding world. The Daily Prophet photographed him exiting bars with a different witch every night. Around the 20th night, the headline read “Weasley is Our Sex Addict?” Hermione wasn’t sure if it was number 6 or 13, who had introduced Ron to the new black market numbing potion (in Hermione’s opinion it was the muggle version of oxycodone), but it had been one of them and Ron had been hooked since then. 

Hermione was coping with insomnia and reading Wizarding law books. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept for more than an hour and half for a night. Every time sleep came, she saw Bellatrix Lestrange and the incident at Malfoy Manor just replayed like a gag-reel. Hermione found herself reading Wizarding law books these nights. She had always wanted to work for the Ministry and continue her work for S.P.E.W. but with the aftermath of the war, she figured her efforts would be better spent helping regulate the now chaotic Ministry. 

She had applied for the job at the Ministry’s legal department, but her application had been denied. Apparently the Ministry couldn’t hire a witch without a diploma, even if the said witch was a “war hero,” as the snooty receptionist had told her sarcastically. 

Thankfully, Headmistress McGonagall was making this academic year at Hogwarts a “grace year.” McGonagall was having every student from Hermione’s year repeat their academic year because no student could take their graduating exams after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione was secretly relieved, she had been worried about being one of the only repeat 7th years in school, while most of her graduating class would have been gone. It felt more like Hogwarts to have all familiar faces there, all of the surviving ones, she thought with a tinge of sadness. 

“Speaking of your badge, Hermione, have you talked to our lovely headboy, yet?” drawled Harry, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts.

Ron scoffed. “Oh yeah here’s the conversation. Gee, remember the time you watched me almost die and tried to kill all of my fellow muggleborns! Me too! Thanks Malfoy!   
“Ron!” exclaimed Hermione, shaking her head. “Insulato!,” she quickly sound-proofed their compartment. “You are a prefect and I’m the head girl! We are supposed to be setting an example for all the students! How are we ever supposed to move on from all of this if we keep perpetuating this and teach this to the younger Gryffindors!”

Ron quickly jumped up. “Don’t yell at me, Hermione! Why don’t you ask McGonagall what potion she was on, when she decided that an ex-Death Eater could set an example for all students!,” he retorted.

“Oh that’s bloody rich coming from you, Ronald! You’re the last person who should be questioning McGonagall’s judgment!” Hermione yelled, crossing her arms. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Ron started moving towards Hermione. 

Harry shot up and stepped in front of Ron. “Ron, sit down. She didn’t mean anything by it.” Harry turned around and gave Hermione a look. Hermione glared at Harry. 

Ron sat back down, slumping over the seat. Hermione remained, staring out of the window. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to get over it with Malfoy and the rest of them. I know you both know that, regardless of your biases.” 

“I’ll get over it when the ground over Fred’s body dries,” sneered Ron, before taking a swig of his firewhisky. 

Harry got up and took the flask away from Ron. “Okay, let’s stop drinking this before your prefect’s meeting. You don’t need McGonagall down your throat before classes even begin.”

Hermione sighed and continued looking out of the window. She had no idea how to lead this prefect’s meeting. She had talked to Bill last week for advice, but he had basically confirmed her fear; the Head Boy and Head Girl usually collaborated before starting the meeting. The thought of collaborating with Draco Malfoy, was just a situation that she could not bring herself to rationalize. 

Hermione thought of the last time she had seen Malfoy. It had been in July, at the Ministry of Magic.

*************************************************************

July 15, 1998

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were present at Draco Malfoy’s hearing. They were each to serve as direct witnesses to Malfoy’s war crimes. 

The doors to the courtroom had opened and Hermione watched as a tall dark hooded figure entered the room, accompanied by two aurors. The figure was covered in his black robes and his face was well hidden underneath the shadow of his hoodie. The chains on his arms and feet clunked loudly and his footsteps echoed across the courtroom. It was not until the figure had sat down and she had seen his thin pale hand move his robe to sit down, in that familiar arrogant manner, that she had been able to recognize that who was under the robe. He sat slumped in the chair, only his thin, bony fingers were visible underneath the robe. 

Amelia Bones’ voice boomed across the courtroom. “The charges against the accused, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, are as follows, That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having studied the Unforgiveable Curses and the illegality of their nature, perform the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses on multiple wizards and witches, and served as accomplice to those who used the Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing curses on multiple wizards and witches, throughout the timeframe of 1996-1998, which constitute as multiple offenses under paragraph C of the Decree for the Intolerable Curses of Sorcery, 1717, and also under section one of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Permissible Curses.”

“You are Draco Abraxas Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire, England?” asked Bones.

“Yes” said the man in black, with a low-toned mutter.

“You studied the Unforgiveable Curses at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, did you not Mr. Malfoy?” inquired Bones.

“Yes”  
“You were and are aware that the Unforgiveable Curses are illegal, are you not Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes”

“Did you or did you not cast the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses multiple times in the past year, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I do not recall” said the hooded figure of Draco Malfoy.

Bones raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Mr. Malfoy, is that a statement of affirmation or negation?,” she asked sternly.

“I do not recall, Ministress” Malfoy replied with a monotous voice. 

“Mr. Malfoy, did you or did you not witness other wizards and witches use the Killing Curse and serve as an accomplice to them, in the past year?” stated Bones. 

Hermione grimaced at the Ministress’ openly apparent bias against Malfoy. Bones had barely asked the question and had more or less stated it as a fact. 

“I do not recall” said Malfoy.

Bones shook her head, clearly irritated from Malfoy’s responses, or lack thereof. “Very well then Mr. Malfoy, you leave me no choice but to call witnesses to attest to the factual findings of your case.”

Hermione watched as Bones called multiple witnesses to the chairs. She watched as Bones questioned them one by one, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that no one was giving concrete testimonies that proved Malfoy’s usage of the curses. Hermione knew that the decision rest mainly on her, Harry, and Ron’s testimonies. The Ministry had been voting in favor of their statements all summer. 

She watched as Harry played dumb to the Ministress’ questions and gave his statement supporting Malfoy’s innocence. She wasn’t surprised. Harry had always been noble, and it would figure that he would try to repay Malfoy for saving his life in Malfoy Manor. 

She glanced at Malfoy and was impressed; he had managed to not move a muscle in his seat for the past three hours.

Bones called Ron next, after Harry. “Brilliant, she just had to leave me for last,” thought Hermione. She watched as Ron ungracefully answered the Ministress’ questions, occasionally shaking at Ron’s candor. Ultimately, Ron attested to Harry’s statement and added that he had never witnessed Malfoy ever performing an Unforgivable Curse.

 

As Ron got up to leave the witness seat, Hermione heard Bones’ next order.

“I call Ms. Hermione Jean Granger to the witness chair now for cross-examination.”

Hermione quickly walked to the chair, keeping her face down, and seated herself. 

“You are Hermione Jean Granger, of Muggle London, England?” inquired Bones.

Hermione cleared her throat and answered curtly. “Yes” 

“Ms. Granger, you are aware that the man sitting on your left is Draco Abraxas Malfoy?” inquired Bones.

“Yes.”

“Let the record show that Ms. Granger has indicated her awareness that the accused is Draco Abraxas Malfoy. Ms. Granger, as according to my records, you were present at Malfoy Manor on April 5, 1998, am I correct with this information?” pressed the Ministress.

Hermione felt her stomach turn. She replied. “You are correct, Ministress.” 

“Ms. Granger, am I correct in saying that you were put under the Cruciatus Curse in a multitude of times by the now deceased witch, Bellatrix Lestrange?

“Yes.”  
“Ms. Granger, where was Draco Malfoy at the duration of your interaction with Ms. Lestrange?” asked Bones.

Hermione glanced at Harry’s face and he gave her a slight nod. She glanced at where she assumed Malfoy’s face was underneath his hood, and she knew what she had to do.

“Draco Malfoy was in the cellar of Malfoy Manor with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley” she asserted.

Hermione watched as Bones’ face quickly appeared furious.   
“Ms. Granger! I have it on clear record that Draco Malfoy was in the same room with Bellatrix Lestrange and yourself during those seven hours that you and Bellatrix Lestrange were interacting. You are aware that lying in this courtroom is a punishable offence that will land you in Azkaban, are you not?” Bones yelled, her tone indicated the warning she was giving to Hermione. 

Hermione felt a hot volcanic rage rising up her throat; the fact that Bones thought that she had the right to speak about those seven hours and lecture Hermione, the cleverest witch of her age, on basic wizarding law, as if she was some common stupid witch. It took every fire of Hermione’s being not to retort with asking Bones’ about her cowardice during Yaxley’s reign at the Ministry. 

“With all due respect Ministress, I am fully aware of the Ministry’s courtroom procedures and conduct. If you are going to talk about what happened with Bellatrix Lestrange and myself at Malfoy Manor, you might as well call it what it was, an interrogation, not an interaction. As I’ve previously stated, quite clearly actually, Draco Malfoy was no where near the vicinity at the time that Bellatrix Lestrange had casted the Cruciatus Curse upon me. He was in the cellar with Harry and Ron and not one of them escape due to their wandless states.” Hermione countered, shooting Bones a fixed glare. 

Bones squinted her eyes at Hermione and looked down at her papers. She flipped through several pages before she looked up to speak. 

“Very well Ms. Granger, since you’ve insisted adamantly that Draco Malfoy was not involved in your- Bones’ paused and her voice sneered slightly- interrogation with Bellatrix Lestrange in any facet of the matter, I have no choice left but to have the statement of fact today be that Draco Malfoy had not executed or accompliced in executing the Cruciatus Curse on yourself. You may be dismissed.” 

Hermione quickly rose and walked back to the panel where Harry and Ron were. She looked across the room where the Ministry bureaucrats were seated; they would have to make a decision on Malfoy’s guilt in a short period. They were whispering to each other and sharing their notes with one another.

Hermione sat down next to Harry. “Do you think they’re going to send him back to Azkaban?” she whispered to Harry, who was staring ahead at the man in the black. 

Harry had a solemn look on his face. He replied, not taking his eyes off the dark figure, “Would it matter to you if he didn’t? He was there those whole seven hours.” 

Hermione stared at the dark figure. He had been eerily still throughout the entire hearing; he may as well have been a still corpse. 

“It does matter, Harry. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Seven hours be damned for a lifetime. You know that just as much as I do.” She whispered to her friend. 

Harry didn’t say anything. 

After a couple of minutes of shuffling and heated arguing, the Wizengamot were ready to announce their decision. 

Bones took to her podium at the center of the room. “The Wizengamot will know announce their decision in the Ministry’s case against Draco Malfoy.   
Will those are in favor of clearing the accused of all charges, raise their hands in this moment?” She instructed.

Hermione turned around to count the hands in the air. It was a unanimous decision; there wasn’t a single hand not in the air. 

She breathed a sigh of relief and looked to see if Malfoy had expressed any reaction. The figure of Malfoy remained sitting, statuesque, as he had been the throughout hearing.

Bones’ voice boomed, reeking of her displeasure, “Let it be indicated that today, July 15, 1998, the Ministry of Magic clears Draco Abraxas Malfoy of all accused charges. May it be seen that Mr. Malfoy is properly given accommodations for the journey back to his residence of Malfoy Manor. You may all be dismissed.”

*************************************************************

Hermione couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to face Draco Malfoy today. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, it was just that it was…so  
awkward. She wasn’t even sure if Malfoy was alive after how lifeless he had appeared at his hearing. Would he even acknowledge her existence or what she had done for him? How were they supposed to live and work together when there was so much bad blood between them? Would he call her a mudblood? What would she do if he did? She looked down at her watch and saw the time. “Time to take the bull by it’s horn,” she thought to herself, internally groaning.

She turned around.  
“Ron, it’s time for our meeting, come on.” 

Ron groaned and got himself up. “See you later, mate” he said to Harry, who nodded back at him.

Hermione looked at her spectacled friend sympathetically. “We’ll meet you in about an hour, Harry.” 

“Yeah, you guys go ahead.” Harry said, waving his hand, shooing them away. 

And with that, Hermione and Ron made their way to the Prefects compartment.


	2. Desecration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay! Your reviews were great thank you! A note for this story: Justin will be a pure blood, despite being a muggle born canonically.

September 1, 1998

Draco Malfoy was trying his best not to hex the bystanders peeking behind him, into his compartment’s window. It was almost as if those imbeciles were stupid enough to think that he couldn’t hear them. He could hear the “whispers” succinctly from his seat. 

“I heard the Malfoys paid to get him out of Azkaban”

“Why’d he come back to Hogwarts?”

“More like, how’d he have the nerve to come back to Hogwarts?”

“I hear his mum and dad are planning a breakout for the Death- Eaters in Azkaban and I reckon they’ll carry out You-Know-Who’s work.” 

“What was McGonagall thinking making him Head Boy? He’ll probably make all first years guinea-pigs for the Cruciatus.”

“I heard his dad paid McGonagall off to even let him come back to-

The thin boy sitting next to Draco’s right had quickly gotten up and swung open the door. “Out of all the compartments to spy on, did you really think it was best to pick the Slytherin 7th year compartment? You’ll all be lucky to be Malfoy’s guinea-pigs, that is if you’ll all survive being mine first.” said Theodore Nott, coldly. 

“We didn’t mean anything by it” Malfoy heard one of the underclassmen squeak.   
“Consider this your only warning. If I see you hanging out here, you won’t make it to Hogwarts.” Nott said icily. He slammed the door shut and drew his wand. “Muffliato,” he quickly muttered, ensuring the compartment’s privacy from the rest of the Hogwart’s Express. He returned to his seat next to Draco.

Draco had his back facing Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass all seated in the compartment, while he stared out of the window. The absence of Vincent Crabbe was felt by all of them, especially by Goyle. Draco had noticed that Goyle looked to have lost about 30 pounds and hadn’t bought anything from the food trolley earlier. That was a first, Draco had noted to himself. 

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to blow over soon, and people will stop talking about him.” Tracey’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Draco could feel Tracey’s stare from the back of his head.

Draco felt a tinge of annoyance. Who did Tracey think she was to give him her opinion? Who was Tracey Davis even? Just because the Slytherins had to stick together now, because the other houses now absolutely abhorred them, was not a signal for Davis to think that she and Draco were now friends.   
“Draco will be fine. He’s never let other people get in his way. Isn’t that right, Draco?” Pansy quickly defended Draco. Pansy was practically purring. Blaise rolled his eyes at Pansy’s obvious display of admiration for Draco. Daphne raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at Pansy sideways. Draco shot Pansy a piercing glare; it didn’t surprise him that Pansy matched Weasel King’s obliviousness. 

Draco rested his head on the window and tuned out the discussion of his housemates’. He wasn’t in the mood for talking; he hadn’t been all summer. He didn’t have it in him to pretend to be excited for the new Hogwarts term or to be near his housemates and people in general. Any place where he was alone was better than fucking Hogwarts. 

Hogwarts was officially going to be the lion’s den. There really was no point in having the four houses anymore, when Gryffindor practically ruled the school now. It didn’t help that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had no problem with ass-kissing Gryffindor’s throne. No professor was going to deduct points from the precious Gryffindors after the war, especially with McGonagall being headmistress now. Draco grimaced. 

He would still take McGonagall for headmistress over Dumbledore for headmaster. That old arsehole had never hid his blatant favoritism for his old house. McGonagall was actually capable of being objective and punishing the buffoons when they earned it. Case and point: her picking him for Head Boy. Draco found it hard to not roll his eyes every time he heard an idiot whisper about McGonagall picking him for Head Boy. As if it was such a surprise that he was made Head Boy; when he had outscored every single student consecutively for the past six years, except for one; Granger. 

Hermione Granger, one-third of the unbearable Golden Trio, the golden girl of the wizarding world, Gryffindor’s princess, was now Head Girl. When Draco had seen her name in his Head Boy letter, the only coherent thought he had managed to form was “fuck.” The only person who hated him more than Pothead and Weaselbee was Granger, or Mudblood Granger as he had called her for seven years. She had always hated him, with good reason he had to admit, with his tormenting her for nearly seven years; he had even managed to get under the usually collected witch’s skin enough for her to slap him. 

However, it was different now. Granger would never be the same again and it had been his own fault. Granger had been …because of him…; his own blood had done that to her. She had haunted him all summer. All he saw in Azkaban had been her, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord. The Dementors had sensed his guilt and had punished ruthlessly. They had visited him at least twice a day, leaving him cold, but not empty of guilt. Eventually after the first week, it had turned into a movie; re-watching the Dark Lord order him commands, the looks on his victims’ faces, their pleas to him, his fear, the emptiness on their faces when Draco had finished. The movie always ended the same way, with Bellatrix and Granger. 

Granger’s screams… Merlin he had never heard a noise so disgusting in his life. He didn’t know that the human body was capable of making a sound so excruciating. Draco would have gladly been stunned or hexed if it meant he would never have had to hear those screams, let alone witness the cause of them. He had watched Bellatrix…perform on Granger. His sadistic aunt had relished every moment of it. He saw the sick pleasure radiating in her eyes as she defiled the mudblood she had been itching for years to get her hands on. He had watched Granger resist to the best of her abilities. She had put up such an enduring fight that Godric Gryffindor, himself, would have been proud of his student. Even with his crippling fear and unease, Draco had managed to find admiration for Granger through her struggling. 

His aunt had been legendary for her prodigal skill as a witch. He had seen wizards older and better trained than Granger pass out within an hour from Bellatrix’s wrath. How she had managed to stay awake for 5 hours was beyond him. If Bellatrix hadn’t been such a dangerously skilled legilimens, Draco would have performed legilimency on Granger himself; notifying her that the longer she stayed awake, the more ferocious and lethal Bellatrix’s rage would fester. Her screeches had become deafening, and Draco had become exasperated. What was so important about the fucking vault? Did Bellatrix really think that Granger had managed to break into her vault without the detection of any of the goblins at Gringotts? Draco was disgusted; Granger had become unconscious now, and Bellatrix just continued on for two more hours. She was practically a corpse, he had thought to himself. When was it going to be enough for Bellatrix? When Granger had bled out all over the manor’s floors? 

Granger had confirmed Draco’s fears by waking up in the last hour. She had woken up with a bewildered expression on her face, when her face seemed to register that it was Bellatrix Lestrange on top of her, she had been horrified. She had wailed loud enough for all of Whiltshire to hear her; her screams seemed to just serve as euphoria to Bellatrix. Draco could sense it coming, Bellatrix was going to kill Granger now. Granger had pushed her to her breaking point, and she was going to make her pay. Draco closed his eyes waiting for the flash of green light. 

But no green light had flashed. He opened his eyes to see Bellatrix carving into Granger’s arm. “This will teach you your place in our world, you filthy animal” she had sneered. Bellatrix pointed her wand at Granger’s arm and yelled the same incantation the Dark Lord had once used on Draco. She got up and walked off of Granger’s body; her head held high, as if she was walking away from her throne. Draco was positive he had heard several of Granger’s ribs and pelvic bone crack. As Bellatrix left, what appeared to be Granger’s carcass remained on the floor. Her body was now motionless. Her face looked hallow and porcelain; she looked like a lifeless doll. It was as if her soul had forsaken her, Draco had noted to himself. Draco’s eyes trailed to her arm, soaking in a pool of blood, to see his aunt’s fine print: M u d b l o o d. It had been burned into her hand. Draco knew from his own marked arm experience how much pain Granger’s arm would now be in for weeks to come, assuming that Bellatrix would let her live. He stopped breathing for a second in horror. Apparently he had done so loudly, because Granger was now staring into his eyes; her brown eyes revealed no emotion or hope. Granger’s eyes simply bore into his for what felt like a lifetime until a single tear rolled down her right eye. Draco had to force himself to look away from those brown eyes. 

That was the last time he had seen Granger. She had gone to his ministry hearing. He didn’t know that she was in the courtroom at the time that he had entered it. Draco had gained a suspicion that she was in the room when Weasel had followed Potty for testimonies. When Bones had called Granger’s name, he had felt his stomach turn. He prepared himself emotionally for his journey back to Azkaban. Potty and Weasel had lied for him because they hated that they owed him, they had just wanted to even the score. Granger owed him nothing. He had allowed everything to be taken from her. He had participated in her defiling, first hand. It was Granger’s time to exact her revenge on him. 

Draco’s body went cold when he heard Granger lie through her teeth for him. He couldn’t feel the blood running through his veins as he heard Granger corroborate her friends’ testimonies. Why was she showing him mercy? She had always been a fair witch, and the only fair decision was for him to be sentenced to Azkaban. He had done the crimes. He had tortured countless victims. He had done magic so dark, for the Dark Lord, that wizarding textbooks had yet to come up with name for those curses. He had been an accomplice in the violation of Hermione Granger. He knew it and she knew it. Granger wasn’t being noble by exonerating him. No, exonerating a guilty criminal only sullied her own hands, and he was exhausted of his blood sullying her hands. 

But the Wizengamot had been complicit with Granger’s wishes. As Draco heard Bones clearing him of all charges, he just remained in his chair. He heard the wizards get up and start walking, possibly to evacuate the courtroom, and everything became a blur. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Draco. Draco!” Draco heard Zabini call his name. He turned around to face his housemates. 

“We have to go to the prefect’s compartment” Nott said, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Right” Draco got up from his comfortable seat. He walked towards Nott, at the door, while maintaining a safe distance from Pansy who followed him. The three of them left the compartment to head to the Prefect’s compartment.

 

The Slytherins were the first ones to arrive to the Prefect’s compartment. No surprise there, Draco thought to himself. Punctuality had never been a virtue of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Hufflepuff prefects had occasionally beat the Slytherin prefects out for the earliest to arrive. 

Pansy sat down first and Nott, sensing Draco’s desire to not be near Pansy, took the seat next to her. Draco chose to stand, leaning on the empty Patrol chalkboard.

“Have you and uhh…Granger made a plan for patrolling duties and locations?” Nott inquired.  
Draco paused. “I didn’t see the point in contacting her. I figured we’d wing it today.” 

Nott simply nodded his head.

“I can help you make the chart Draco, since we’re not doing anything right now” chipped Pansy. Her entire body was filled with so much enthusiasm; one might have thought that Slytherin had just won the house cup. 

Draco glared at her. “That’s for me and the Head Girl to make. Last time I checked, you weren’t the Head Girl,” he said cuttingly to her.

Pansy’s cheeks turned red from his insult. “Last time I checked, the Head Boy and Head Girl were actually capable of working together instead of procrastinating until the last day,” she retorted.

Draco stopped himself from shooting a scathing insult at Pansy. As much as he hated to admit it, Pansy had a point. It didn’t look good that he and Granger hadn’t worked together in advance on the patrol chart. Perception was everything and the two heads were currently failing. 

Draco couldn’t prepare himself for his meeting with Granger. He had no idea how she would interact with him and vice versa. Granger had completely shocked him at the Ministry; he had expected her to have a burning hatred for him. And yet, here he was, standing on the Hogwarts Express, because of her. Did she try to convince McGonagall from making him Head Boy? Granger always had favored Finch-Fletchley and it wouldn’t have shocked him if she wanted him to have been her Head Boy. Would Granger acknowledge his existence? Would she make him know that he was indebted to her? How were they going to live together and share a common room after what had transpired between them? How were they going to run this meeting without the other prefects realizing how truly dysfunctional this arrangement was.

 

To Draco’s dismay, the Ravenclaw prefects entered next. Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein sauntered into the compartment. Padma and Pansy had always been friends and they immediately started gossiping together. 

Goldstein awkwardly looked at Nott and Draco. Goldstein cleared his throat.  
“So Malfoy, what days and when do I patrol?”

“None of the prefects have been assigned their patrolling hours yet.” Malfoy said curtly.

“What?! What do you mean none of us have been assigned our hours yet? That was literally your job to get done before the meeting!” Padma Patil exclaimed, interrupting their conversation.

“Calm down before you wet yourself, Patil. I haven’t talked to Granger all summer, so I couldn’t make the chart without her input.” Draco said with disdain.

“Gee, you guys are really making McGonagall proud.” Patil said sarcastically.

“You’re Head Boy. You can’t go cursing every student just because she’s a bitch.” Draco thought to himself adamantly.

The Hufflepuffs entered, thankfully, to diffuse the tension that was now in the room from Padma and Draco. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott gave curt nods to the Slytherin prefects and instantly brightened at the sight of the Ravenclaw prefects. After they had seated themselves, the divide in the room had become apparent. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were engaged in deep conversations with one another, while ignoring the Slytherins. Even Padma who had initially been chatting away with Pansy, was now completely ignoring her for the Hufflepuff prefects. Neither group seemed to want to initiate a conversation. 

Hannah Abbot, eventually gave in out of sheer awkwardness, and broke the seal. 

“How was your summer Pansy?” 

Pansy looked surprised for a split second and instantly masked her surprise with that familiar haughty arrogance Draco had seen from his mother and his aunt countless times. “It was excellent. Daddy took me to Paris and we spent weeks there.” Draco noticed that Pansy didn’t ask Hannah about the state of her summer. 

Nott picked up for Pansy’s blatant rudeness. “How was your summer Hannah?” the dark haired boy asked. 

Hannah blushed at Nott’s query. “It was good. I visited Ireland with my dad. We went to mum’s old house.”

Draco looked away uncomfortably. He had forgotten that Dolohov had murdered Hannah’s mother. 

“What- What about you, Theo?” stuttered Hannah, her entire face was now red. 

Theo appeared to be amused from Hannah’s reaction.   
“It wasn’t as nice as your’s was unfortunately. My father’s in Azkaban now, so I spent the summer alone, and I occasionally visited my cousin Ben and played quidditch with him.” 

“Ben as in Ben Rosier, the younger brother of the Death-Eater Evan Rosier?” piped Finch-Fletchley.

Theo instantly turned stone-faced. “That’s my cousin,” he replied cooly.

Justin scoffed quietly, an effort to go unnoticed.

“Is there a problem Finch-Fletchley?” Nott glowered.

“You guys all managed to keep Death Eaters in the family, huh. Is it fun visiting Azkaban, seeing all of your families there?” Justin goaded.

Draco knew it was time to step in. Nott was one of the calmest people he knew, but his off switch had always been his family. Nott would murder anyone who crossed his family, literally.

“That’s enough, Finch-Fletchley. Nott is a prefect and I’ll be damned if I don’t see you treat him with respect” He apprised. 

“Of course you’d defend him, Malfoy. You’re the Slytherin poster child, joining Daddy-dearest in Azkaban.”

It took every fiber of Draco’s being to not make Finch-Fletchley pay. It would just be so easy to just bring him to his knees in agony…

“I’m warning you Finch-Fletchley. You don’t want me to warn you again, or else-”

“Or else what! What did you guys decide to start murdering purebloods now too? Soon you’ll have no one left to play with but just yourselves.” Justin retaliated.

“You don’t count as us!” Nott bellowed. Just because your father made some gold trading Gringott’s shares, doesn’t mean that you’re on our level Finch-Fletchley! Your money is still new and your family is barbaric compared to our families! You’ll never be one of the partitioned pure-bloods! You know it and your pathetic father knows it! Why don’t you do us all a favor and get your head out of your ass trying to get our approval?!” Nott sneered with his lip curling in disgust.

Nott had visibly hit a nerve. Justin’s family had constantly been taunted for being new money among the elite pureblood families. As rich as they were, they hadn’t been recognized among pureblood society.

Justin leapt out of his seat and drew his wand. “Fuck you, Nott! I don’t know why they let you back here when your murderer father rots in jail!” 

“Reducto!”

Nott had been ready for him.

“Confringo!”

“Protego!” 

Both the curses failed to hit their intended victims because of the invisible shield that had been drawn. Draco looked to see who had cast the shield and felt his chest tighten. There stood Hermione Granger holding out her wand, staring straight at him. His grey eyes locked with her brown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review if you have any comments about the chapter! Feel free to message me at pandachanda.tumblr.com or on my facebook (in my profile page) if you have any questions or comments.


	3. Resurrection

Hermione didn’t break eye contact from the cold gray eyes as she walked into the compartment, her wand outstretched. 

“I’m not even going to ask what’s been going on here. There is no excuse for two prefects to be sparring curses at one another during any situation, let alone on a train with non-magic practicing first year students,” she said sternly. 

“How dare you both. Twenty points from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, each.” 

Pansy Parkinson made a high-pitched astonished noise; she was visibly upset about the points from Slytherin.

“Hermione that’s ridiculous, you can’t take off -”

“I can take off anything I see fit to, Justin. Don’t question me further, or I’ll make it forty points from Hufflepuff,” Hermione retorted. 

Justin quickly shut up. The prefects looked at one, avoiding speaking in fear of losing their houses’ points. 

“I’ve managed to make a patrol chart for us all. I don’t think that you’ll object to it. I’m going to put it up on the board.”

Hermione directed her attention at the Head Boy as she walked towards him. Malfoy was leaning against an empty black board; his facial expression was unreadable. He looked healthy, unlike the last time she had seen him. The dark circles under his eyes had vanished. He appeared to have gained twenty pounds over the summer. His shoulders had broadened, but his lean seeker’s build had remained. 

She felt his body stiffen as she started drawing the chart on the blackboard. Of course, Malfoy was uncomfortable by his close proximity to a dirty mudblood, she thought to herself. 

She finished drawing the chart. The pairs read as: Granger and Malfoy, Abbot and Weasley, Nott and Patil, Parkinson and Finch-Fletchley, Goldstein and Weasley. She instantly saw the looks of displeasure when she turned around. 

Pansy Parkinson was quite obviously displeased about the fact that she had no patrol days with Malfoy. Nott didn’t seem too pleased that he had ended up with Patil. Justin looked like he wanted to duel a Hungarian Horntail over patrolling with Pansy Parkinson. Ron just looked miserable, but that may have been more of the alcohol than the thought of patrolling with Hannah Abbot. 

“Right, so everyone will patrol at least three times a week with their patrol partners. If you cannot make a shift for patrolling, you must find someone to cover for you and make up your hours.” Hermione continued. 

“I didn’t think that I would have to go over the Prefect’s Honor Code with a group of mostly seventh year prefects, but given some events today,” she shot Justin and Nott a glare, “I would say that it’s necessary for the rules to be stated.”

“All prefects must be respectful of all Hogwarts students. There will be no mocking or bullying of any student.”

 

“All prefects may only take off points if a student has distinctly broken a rule.”

 

“All prefects are forbidden from bullying any student.”

 

Hermione paused to give the Slytherins the pointed look that she had modeled after Professor McGonagall’s.

“All prefects must create monthly activities ensuring that first year students are being integrated into their individual house community.” 

“All prefects must refer to the Head Boy and Head Girl for conflicts with fellow prefects.”

“All prefects are forbidden from giving non-prefects passwords to the prefect’s bathroom.” 

 

“A breach of any of these rules is punishable up to the removal of the status of prefect.”

 

“Does anyone have any questions or concerns about these rules?” inquired Hermione.

Everyone shook their heads. 

“Excellent. The patrol schedule will go into effect starting tomorrow. Malfoy and I will patrol the castle tonight. You may all be dismissed now.”

Hermione turned to Malfoy, finally acknowledging him, “Malfoy, a word please?”

She wasn’t sure if he had grunted at her or actually said yes. She waited until the others had evacuated the compartment before turning to him. 

“What I walked in on today, was completely unacceptable. I can’t believe that you didn’t do anything to stop Justin and Nott! What would have happened if I hadn’t walked in? What if they had hurt themselves or worse, other students?”

To her annoyance, Malfoy’s face remained neutral. 

“What were you thinking?” Hermione hissed at the seemingly unaffected blond.

Malfoy’s jaw tightened. 

“What was I thinking Granger? I was thinking that both Nott and Finch-Fletchley were two adult men who had chosen their words and actions. I was also thinking that there was no reason for me to step in until one of them had done something actual illegal.” He replied coolly.

“So you chose to just stand there while they injured each other with curses, instead?” Hermione retorted, her disapproval apparent.

“Isn’t that what you and your group of friends chose to do all of fifth year.” Malfoy glowered at her. “It’s funny when the pot calls the kettle black.”

Hermione felt nothing but rage. Dumbledore’s army was necessary at the time, what Nott and Justin had done was anything but-

“Look Granger, if it’s easier for you, we don’t have to patrol together at the same time. We can split the corridors and floors so that you don’t have to interact with me.” Malfoy offered. 

Hermione had had it up to here with the Head Boy at this point.

“If it’s easier? Do you know how disappointing this conversation is right now? Malfoy, as much as I’ve hated you, I’ve always thought one thing, that you’re a bloody brilliant wizard. Do you know pathetic it is to hear that you, the smartest wizard of your year, think that there are only two options here? False, Malfoy! We have three options. The first is the option that you’ve obviously thought about. We can go on hating each other, bickering, and getting absolutely nothing done. You’ll call me a filthy mudblood cunt who shouldn’t be allowed in Hogwarts; I’ll call you an arrogant entitled wanker. We’ll storm away to our friends, complain to them, and give them migraines. We’ll repeat this on a daily basis and eventually prove to be the most ineffectual Head Boy and Head Girl, Hogwarts has ever seen.”

“The second option, the one that you’ve already so generously suggested; we completely avoid each other, even though we’re going to be living together all year. We avoid each other uncomfortably in our common room and bathroom. We tip toe around each other. We prove to be ineffectual at being Head Boy and Head Girl because we don’t confer on any tasks and assignments together. We make the rest of the prefects confused with assignments because we can’t stand to work together.”

“The third option, the option I was hoping you would have suggested, is that we actually prove to be the competent, intelligent, capable people that I thought we were, and work together to make our footprint in Hogwarts’ history. This academic year is iconic and integral. The first school year after the most destructive war, the wizarding world has ever seen! There are students suffering from the deaths of their parents, siblings, relatives, friends, and professors. What we do this year as Heads of the school, matters! We could shape the new future for Hogwarts for years to come.”

“I want my name in the history books as the greatest Head Girl, Hogwarts has ever seen. I’m not going to be a pathetic bitch baby who can’t get over her schoolgirl hatred for a classmate. Now if you want to throw all of that away over your petty racist hatred for me, then that’s a damn shame because I always pegged you for more, Malfoy. You’ve always been cunning, shrewd, and resourceful. Are you going to let all of your talent go to waste just because you can’t bear to be near a “mudblood”?” 

Hermione observed Malfoy as he now appeared to be shell-shocked. He seemed to have been registering what she had said; weighing the pros and cons of working with her in his head. She was slightly insulted that it was taking him this much consideration. 

Eventually Malfoy’s face returned to its familiar arrogance that Hermione was so used to seeing. His eyes bore into her’s as he responded. 

“Option three, it is.”

Hermione felt a surge of relief pass down her body; a part of her had been worried Malfoy would have gone with a different option. 

“Great. I’ll see you later in the common room.” She said curtly. She turned around and began walking towards the compartment door. 

“Granger.” It was more of statement than it was a question.

Hermione, holding the compartment door open, paused and then turned around to face the tall blond. 

“Yes, Malfoy?” she asked dispassionately.

“You’re not a mudblood, so don’t call yourself one in front of me again.” Malfoy said, tersely.

Her eyes locked with Malfoy’s again. She didn’t say anything for a good three seconds before she finally responded. 

“All right then, Malfoy.” She turned and left the compartment. 

***************************

The Great Hall had been restored to it’s old glory. Hermione was very impressed by the Hogwarts’ staffs’ ability to clean up the damages from the Battle of Hogwarts. There were thousands of candles in the air, illuminating the hall. The ceiling of the Great Hall looked as magical and as beautiful as ever, with the night sky and stars peering inwards. The four long marble tables were packed with mostly familiar faces and musical laughter could be heard throughout. Even the professors, despite the remnants the war had taken affect on their faces, looked content to finally have a full hall after months. She found McGonagall at the center of the high table, where she had grown so accustomed to seeing Dumbledore. The headmistress gave Hermione a warm smile and raised her glass to her. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” probed Harry, who was seated across from Hermione.

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione

“It’s Dumbledore’s seat. It just doesn’t feel right without him there, you know?” the raven-haired boy said sullenly.

“Maybe for you, but I’d say it’s a pleasant surprise to see McGonagall sitting there instead of Snape” chirped Ginny. She had arrived at Hogwarts earlier with Charlie. 

Harry gave Ginny a startled look. Hermione instantly knew that Snape’s name had registered discomfort with Harry, who was still struggling with the information he had learned from the dead man’s memory. Ginny quickly looked downcasted, realizing her mistake. 

McGonagall took a spoon and clinked it against her small goblet. “It is time for the sorting ceremony!” she announced.

Professor Sprout led a group of first year students into the Great Hall. She placed the Sorting Hat on a four-legged stool. The Sorting Hat broke into its new song for the year. After it had finished, the whole hall had broken into applause. Professor Sprout pulled out a parcel and began reading the names of the students to be sorted. 

“Catherine Avery” A small pale girl with a hardened face walked towards the stool. 

Harry whispered “She’s an Avery? As in-” 

“Avery like the Death Eater.” Ron muttered as he slid into the seat next to Hermione. 

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat yelled. 

The Slytherin table exploded with applause. The other houses’ tables grimaced and were silent.   
Catherine Avery scurried off to the Slytherin table, very pleased with herself.

“Ron, where were you? You’re late!” whispered Hermione heatedly.

Ron scowled. “Mind your own business, Hermione. Last I checked, you’re not my mother or my girlfriend” he said irately.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush as heat rushed to them. She looked at Harry for support, but he was avoiding eye contact with her. Ginny looked sympathetic but she too, like Harry, chose to ignore Ron’s scathing comment.

“Rose McIver”

“RAVENCLAW!” 

Hermione directed her focus on the first year Gryffindors that had joined their table so far. 

“I want to be like Hermione Granger. I heard she’s the smartest witch Gryffindor’s seen in ages.” She heard a little girl say to the first year boy she was sitting next to. Nostalgia hit Hermione with its crashing tsunami, it had only been years before when she, Harry, and Ron had sat here having a similar conversation.

Ron… was pouring rum into his pumpkin juice. Hermione groaned. She bit her tongue. Perhaps it was her sleep deprivation that had put out her firey need to argue with him.  
Ron had been completely foul to her and this wouldn’t help their already fragile friendship. 

“Reginald Lestrange” Hermione quickly drew her attention to the boy who had been called. Reginald Lestrange looked similar to his father Rabastan, she noted. He walked to the Sorting Hat with a scowl on his face.

“SLYTHERIN!”

“What a fucking surprise there” Ron drawled loudly; drawing stares from multiple Ravenclaws near him. 

Hermione watched as the new Slytherin strutted to the Slytherin table. She looked for Malfoy, to see if he had any reaction to his relative being sorted into his house. Malfoy gave the boy a curt nod and continued whispering something to Zabini. 

Finally Madam Sprout read the name of the last student remaining.

“Brandon Wilkes”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The sorting ceremony had finished. 

McGonagall now stood at the podium, at the center of the Great Hall. 

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, there are some things I would like to discuss with you all. I know you have all experienced suffering of a great magnitude in the past year. Most of you have had to witness and experience travesties that children should never experience. I speak with deep regret and sorrow, when I say that the professors and I feel as if we have failed you all. We allowed Hogwarts to be taken in the direction of dark energy last year. As teachers, we failed our duty to protect this school and its students.”

“We thank you all for deciding to come back to Hogwarts and to trust us, once more, despite our failures. It is our objective to make Hogwarts a school where you feel safe and happy again. Together, we can make a new Hogwarts, one where you feel proud to call your home.”

“There will be some new rules being enforced this school year. Dark Magic has been prohibited on the grounds of Hogwarts, effective immediately. Any student caught practicing Dark Magic will face expulsion, no questions asked.”

“Discrimination against any student or group will not be tolerated.”

All heads turned to look at the Slytherin table. The Slytherins glared with dark expressions on their faces.

“This goes both ways. Any student discriminating another student will immediately face suspension.”

“Seventh year classes have been split into two sections now, due to the class size of this year’s incoming class. The first section will comprise of returning seventh year students. The second section will comprise of new seventh year students.”

“and finally, I am pleased to announce our new Defense Against the Dark Art’s Teacher for this year. Please welcome Professor Charles Weasley!”

The applause from the Gryffindor table was thunderous. Hermione smiled, Charlie would be an excellent professor.

“And with that, let the feast begin!” said McGonagall.

It was a delicious feast, but Ron’s occasional disgusting comments towards her and increasing belligerence with his continuous consumption of pumpkin juice spoiled it for Hermione. She didn’t want to stay for desert, specifically with Ron next to her.   
She rushed through dinner with some small talk. Finally, she excused herself and headed out of the Great Hall. 

***************************

Hermione sought refuge in the Gryffindor common room. She would have gone to her new common room, but it was still a foreign place. Yes, the Gryffindor common room was home. She flipped through the pages of this month’s Witch Weekly, waiting for her friends to arrive. 

After a good twenty minutes, piles of familiar faces arrived in the common room. Eventually, after what now felt like an eternity, Harry, Ginny, and Neville arrived.

Hermione instantly noticed the absence of a particularly lanky red-haired boy. 

“Where’s Ron?” She asked, frowning.

Ginny and Neville instantly shot each other a look, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “Ron said he’ll meet us soon, he wanted to chat with Charlie for a bit” He mumbled.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Despite not being a legilimens, she could tell instantly that Harry was withholding information from her. She decided it wasn’t worth spoiling the night over and let it go.

“How’s the head’s dormitory? Is it everything that people have described it to be?” asked Neville. 

“Bill told me that it has a shortcut passage to the kitchen for nighttime cravings.” Ginny said excitedly.

Hermione chuckled. “Well I haven’t seen it yet, but I can assure you that if the passage does exist, I’ll take full advantage of it for you, Ginny.”

“You haven’t stopped by the Head’s common room, yet?” asked Harry, suspiciously.

“Nope” 

“Why not? I figured you’d have explored it by now. You’ve only dreamed about since you first learned what Hogwarts was.” Harry said.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s avoiding Malfoy,” said Ginny, smirking.

“For your information, I am not!” Hermione huffed.

“She totally is. Hannah told me about how awkward it was with you both at the prefect’s meeting today. She also told me about how Nott and Justin Finch-Fletchley nearly killed each other.” 

“What?!” Harry’s interest had now been peaked. “What happened exactly?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Calm down, Harry. Justin and Nott had both cast curses at one another, thankfully I was able to get a shield charm in just in time.” 

“What curse did Nott use? I wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to off Justin. That git is as foul as they get.”

Hermione shrugged. 

“It was a burning curse from what I could tell. I don’t know what caused the duel or who instigated it. I didn’t bother asking.” 

“What was Malfoy’s reaction? Did he applaud his pal on the back?” Harry seethed, grinding his teeth. 

“Malfoy… didn’t say anything. He just stood there and when I questioned him about it later, he told me he didn’t see the point in getting involved when neither of them had gotten hurt.”

“Yeah, like when Justin had gotten burned, right?” mocked Harry

“Hey, Justin can hold his own!” Neville immediately came to his friend’s defense. 

“Remember to always keep your wand near you in the Head’s room.” Harry admonished, completely ignoring Neville’s statement.

“Dully noted, Harry.” Hermione said playing along with her friend’s paranoia. 

Dean and Seamus joined in on their conversation. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this light. They were closing down the Gryffindor Common room, just like old times. It was almost as if she had gone back five years ago, when the time was significantly easier. There was only one person missing. 

She turned to Harry and whispered. “Do you know when Ron is getting here? I have to leave now to go patrol with Malfoy. I wanted to talk to him about what happened at dinner.” 

Harry paused for a brief second, carefully searching his words. “I honestly have no idea where he is, Hermione. I’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

Hermione nodded. She said her goodbyes and left for the Heads’ corridor.

***************************

“Bugger” Hermione thought to herself. She was running four minutes late to her meeting with Malfoy. She prayed that the Slytherin would be late as well.

As she neared the corridor, she saw the tall blond. He did not look pleased at all.

“You’re late” Malfoy scowled.

“I lost track of time in the-”

“Save it, Granger. I don’t care about what you were doing. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

“That works for me.”

They began their patrol. 

There was a healthy distance between her and the Slytherin. Hermione did her best to ignore the awkwardness that was coming from the now stagnant silence. Neither of the Heads had uttered a word in the past twenty-five minutes. “Can he just say something already? This is so uncomfortable.” 

It was almost as if she was invisible. Malfoy had not once turned to look at her or acknowledge her existence. He had stared straight ahead the entire walk. He hadn’t even coughed or yawned. “Arse” she thought to herself. 

To Hermione’s relief, the silence evaporated as they began to encounter students who were in the corridors, at the now forbidden time. 

“Five points from Hufflepuff”

“Twenty points from Ravenclaw”

“Ten points from Gryffindor”

“Ten points from Slytherin”

It had become a pattern. She and Malfoy were now in sync, taking turns in taking points off. The awkwardness had dissipated and the routine had set the tone for the night. If tonight were to be an example for the rest of the year, then there was hope that she and Malfoy could possibly work together.

They were nearing the end of their shift. They only had one floor left now. 

As they walked down the stairs to the floor, Hermione heard moans coming from a broom closet. She frowned at the thought of what could be transpiring within the closet.  
She quickly looked at Malfoy, who stared back at her with an annoyed expression on his face.

“Is that -” Hermione was disgusted.

“Two people shagging” Malfoy confirmed her thoughts.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake.”

They both headed towards the broom closet where the loud moans were coming from.   
Malfoy stopped in front of the door and turned to look at her. 

“Do you want to do the honors, Granger?”

“Gladly, Malfoy. Alohomora!”

The broom closet unlocked itself. Hermione opened the door instantly, ready to identify the culprits. Her stomach tightened from the sight before her.

There lay a naked Ron Weasley on top of a scantily clad Padma Patil. 

Hermione saw red.


	4. Status Quo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay in posting the chapter guys! The past two weeks have been crazy for me. I’ve barely been getting sleep, classes have become more stressful with graduation, and my personal life is a mess. I promise the next chapter won’t be so delayed.
> 
> I want to give collaboration credit to my best friend and one of my favorite people in the world: Alden. I would not have been able to write this chapter without him. Alden, thank you for helping me understand how an 18-year-old boy thinks. Thank you for listening to me rant about my fanfiction for hours on end. You’re the best!
> 
> I also want to give a shoutout to my other half and Slytherin saltmate, Dahlia. You are always my main and my ride or die. Thank you for being the flawless bae that you are <3\. 
> 
> Happy reading!

There were many grotesque things that Draco had known he had never wanted to witness in his lifetime. The naked ungroomed ass of Weasley now joined that mental list. He was so unnerved by the sight before him that he had almost forgot that it was his job to stop this. In fact, Granger hadn’t spoken either.

Granger. 

He immediately looked at the Head Girl’s face. Granger’s face mirrored the face of a person who had just caught her ex-boyfriend shagging another girl. Her eyes had narrowed, her cheeks were flaming red, and her breathing was heavy. A vein in her forehead was bulging, and for a second, Draco would have felt some sympathy for Weasley. If looks could kill, Weasley was going to be a dead man in about five seconds. 

“RON!” Granger shrieked.

Weasley jumped off of the girl very quickly. He turned and glared at Granger.   
“Well shut the door, will you?” He droned.

Even from a distance Draco could smell the firewhiskey off of Weasley. Who knew Weasley had the gall to drink his first day back, right under McGonagall’s nose…

Padma Patil looked mortified. 

“Patil, I didn’t know you were into beastiality” Draco curled his lip.

Patil didn’t respond. She scrambled to her feet, using her shirt to cover as much of herself as she could. 

Draco turned his attention to his fellow Head. Her face was turning redder by the minute, something he thought was not possible.

“Ron… what… the…HELL…WERE…YOU…THINKING!” Granger bellowed, her voice shaking. 

Draco drew his wand quietly. He had a suspicion that Weasley was about to earn himself a hex from Granger. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous it wasn’t you in here with me.” Weasley smirked.

“Jealous! How dare you- Ron you’re unbelievable! I cannot believe that you just said that to me!”

“Oh please! Spare me the dramatics woman. You’ve been bitching all summer about every girl I’ve been out with!” Weasley’s tone was scathing.

Draco’s hand tightened around his wand. 

Granger huffed. “This isn’t about us, Ronald. You’re both prefects! I refuse to have the prefects out of line under my watch. I might have to suspend you both. This is my job and I will not let you stop me from doing it!” 

“Stop talking to me like I’m stupid. You are making this about us, when you lost that right months ago!” snarled the ginger.

“When I lost the right to? I am your best-”

Weasley walked closer to Granger and roared. 

“YOU FORFEITED THAT RIGHT MONTHS AGO. YOU LEFT ME! YOU LEFT ME WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST. YOU GAVE UP ON US BEFORE WE COULD EVEN GIVE IT A GO. YOU DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO FIGHT FOR ME. IMAGINE HOW THAT FEELS, TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH SOMEONE FOR SEVEN YEARS, WANT HER THE WHOLE TIME, AND HAVE HER LEAVE YOU AFTER A WEEK. OH THAT’S RIGHT, YOU DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO THINK OF MY SIDE! SO DON’T YOU DARE COME TO ME NOW AND YELL AT ME FOR HOW I DECIDE TO MOVE ON!” 

“That’s enough, Weasley!” Malfoy raised his wand. “Step away Granger.”

“What? You’ve got nothing for me? You’re going to stand there pathetically and let that ferret handle this?” Weasley was goading her.

“We were never going to work! You were awful to me, Ron!-”

“That’s enough, Granger! I’m not going to ask you again. Step away from Weasley!” 

Granger seemed too exhausted to protest his decision. Her face had paled and she walked a good five feet behind him.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw each. Weasley, you’ll be serving detentions with Professor Slughorn for the next month, with your natural talent for potions, I’m sure you’ll blossom.” Malfoy sneered. “Patil, you’ll be serving detentions with Professor Weasley for the next month.”

“FIFTY POINTS. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND, YOU GIT!” Weasley’s disapproval was anything but subtle. 

Draco had lost his patience. 

“Silencio!”

Weasley’s throat instantly closed in and his eyes had begun to water.

“That’s more like it. Now, did I say fifty points from Gryffindor? Let’s take another ten points for disturbing the public with the horror that is your voice. I’m thinking another ten points, for calling me a ferret, Weasel. Oh and another ten points for disrespecting Granger. We’re your heads and the next time you disrespect either of us, you’ll be wishing I only chose to cut your throat off. Am I making myself clear, Weasley or do you need me to dumb it down for you?”

Weasley stared at him. His face had reached a burgundy shade of red from the asphyxiation.

Draco couldn’t help but feel a sadistic pleasure cross himself; if only he could keep Weasley choking this way for the rest of the year…

“I can’t hear your acknowledgment, Weasley.” Draco mocked.

Weasley made a gargling noise that Draco took to mean a feeble “yes.” He lifted the incantation and Weasley instantly loudly gasped for air, his hands clutching his throat. 

“Get out of my sight before I take decide to take more points off,” Draco commanded.

Weasley glared at him and scrambled away with Patil.

Draco shook his head and focused his attention on his chestnut haired counterpart. She had been unusually quiet throughout his exchange with Weasley. He had expected her to throw a hissy fit for his using magic on a student. 

Some color had gathered to her previously pale face. Her arms were crossed; her lips were pursed. Her eyes, unable to hide her discomfort, fixed on his. 

“You all right there, Granger?” Draco asked her gruffly.

She nodded at him curtly. 

“I think our patrol hours are up. We should head back to the chambers.” He said awkwardly.

Granger let him take the lead. They walked in silence, for a good ten minutes, to their chambers.

They came face to face with a portrait of a baron. “Password please?” inquired the jolly big man. 

“Status Quo” Draco replied.  
The portrait swung open.

They entered a common room. It was about half the size of the Slytherin common room, Draco noted, but it was substantially large for just two people. The wall was adorned with two large banners; one with a red and gold lion and one with a green and silver serpent. The common room was furnished with three long couches. There was a table that was identical to the tables in the library, with several chairs. A large bookcase towered in the corner of the room, filled with all of their academic books and some research books he had seen in the library. There was a fireplace in the center of the room, which would be useful for the winter term.

Beyond the common room, there was a hallway of rooms. The door nearest to the common room already had “DRACO MALFOY” printed on it. The door farthest from the common room read “HERMIONE GRANGER.” There was a bathroom equidistant from their rooms. It had a single set of a bathtub, shower, toilet, and urinal. All in all, it wasn’t that shabby of a setup. 

Draco headed to his room; he had been exhausted and it seemed like he would actually have a shot of getting a good night’s rest tonight.

“Malfoy.”

Granger’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He debated ignoring her and just going to bed, but he knew that would just cause an unnecessary spat between them.

He turned around. “Yes, Granger.”

“Can you keep what happened tonight with Ron and Padma, under the wraps? As in don’t mention it to anyone else?” she asked.

Draco scoffed. “It really wasn’t that embarrassing, but sure, I guess.”

Granger’s eyes flashed as if a fire had been ignited in them. “Who said I was embarrassed by any of it? What happened with Ron and me-”

“Look Granger, it’s really none of my business and I frankly don’t care what happened in your and Weasley’s failed relationship.”

“You’re right, it really is none of your business.” She snapped at him.

“Exactly.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m glad we’re clear.” 

“Are we done here?” Draco asked, hoping that she would have nothing left to say.

“For now.” Her eyes were still fiery. The legilimens in him knew that she was still seething from the anger she had accumulated from earlier.

He turned around before she could stop him once more and entered his room for bed.

 

Draco woke up at 8:30 in the morning. He checked the time and fought the urge to kill himself at the thought of having to leave the bed and having to interact with other people. He debated getting dressed to go eat breakfast but figured that the extra hour of sleep would be more rewarding, given that he wasn’t so hungry. Crabbe, Nott, and Zabini would probably be pissed off that he skipped. Crabbe might not miss him as much, since he could eat Draco’s share of food. Draco chuckled to himself as he fell back asleep. 

He awoke again and scrambled to his 10 a.m. class. It was a Monday, Gryffindors and Slytherins always had classes together on Mondays. Draco groaned to himself. Potions was the first class of the day. Bloody fantastic, the start to another year of old Slughorn keeping Potter’s ballsack in his mouth. 

Draco entered the room. He passed through the row of Gryffindors staring and whispering at him. He plopped down in the empty seat next to Zabini.

“You missed breakfast.” 

It was both a statement and a question. Draco could hear the concern in Zabini’s voice. 

“I needed sleep.”

“Don’t skip out on meals. We’re never going to win the Quidditch cup if our captain is just a bag of bones.” Zabini chided.

“Ahh yes my boy, do listen to Zabini. Slytherin must win the cup this year or Minerva will just be insufferable.” A loud voice boomed.

Draco quickly looked back. Professor Horace Slughorn had arrived. The fat old man waddled his way down to the front of the room. 

“Welcome every one! I trust that you are all prepared with the standard book for this class today. 

We will be discussing advanced Alihotsy potions that were assigned in the suggested summer reading packet. 

“Now, who would like to tell me what the function of an alihotsy potion is.”

Granger instantly raised her hand. 

“Ah! Ms. Granger, do tell us.”

“The alihotsy potion has the function of creating a state of hysteria to those who consume it. It was commonly used as a form of torture over centuries, sir.”

“That is correct my dear. Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“Can anyone tell me what ingredient every alithosy draught-”

Slughorn never got to finish his question, because Granger’s hand had shot up again. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger.”

“Wolfsbane, sir. Every alihotsy draught potion contains wolfsbane.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes at the back of Granger’s head of curly hair. 

“Excellent Ms. Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor!” Slughorn exclaimed. 

Zabini rolled his eyes. “Of course she did the summer reading,” he muttered to Draco. 

“Now the tricky part is calculating how long each alihotsy draught can take to make. Does anyone know-”

Granger’s hand was practically an inch away from the ceiling at this point. 

Draco’s nose flared. Granger was earning back almost every point he had managed to take away from Gryffindor last night. 

“Yes dear?”

“Each alihotsy draught can take up to 3-5 days to make. The exact time can be calculated based on the age of the blue leaf in the draught. The younger the leaf, the less more days it will take the potion to make, sir.” Granger dictated.

Slughorn was beaming. “Yes Ms. Granger! 15 points to Gryffindor!”

Draco heard Nott groan from behind him. Yes, classes with the Gryffindors today were going to be unbearable.

************************************************************************

They had Defense Against the Dark Arts, following Potions. It was their first class with the new professor, Charles Weasley. Because that’s exactly what this school needed, another Weasley. Weasley could finally pass school solely based on nepotism, Draco thought to himself.

He entered the classroom with Nott and Zabini. Crabbe trailed behind them, having an animate discussion with Daphne. Draco couldn’t imagine what the discussion could have been about, when these days the only thing Daphne was animate about was Marcus Flint’s schlong. 

Weasley was already at the front of the room with Potter. Potter was chuckling obnoxiously about something while Weasley smiled on and drank his cup of coffee. Another Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who was in love with Potter, bloody fantastic, Draco thought to himself. 

Granger entered the classroom. To Draco’s surprise, she walked past where she had normally sat with Potter and Weasley for years, and chose to sit in the back of the room. Her face was stoic, as she avoided eye contact with Potter as she walked past him. Potter furrowed his brows and whispered something to Weasley, whose eyes followed Granger with concern. 

Weasley’s insufferable younger brother wasn’t present so far. Not that his attendance grade would suffer as a result.

Potter returned to his seat. The seat next to him was noticeably vacant. Granger explicitly avoided eye contact with Potter. 

“Did Granger and Potter break up? Nott whispered. 

Zabini turned around. “Nah, she broke up with Weasley.” 

Nott smirked. “Oh thank god, she was painfully out of his league.” 

Zabini raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you fancy Granger now?”

“Granger’s not my type.”

“That’s because she actually has a brain.” Draco interjected. Zabini sniggered. Nott feigned indignation. 

Professor…Weasley cleared his throat. “Hey everyone! This is 7th year Defense Against the Dark Arts. If you’re not enrolled in this class, this would be the time to leave the classroom.”

No one left the classroom. 

“Very well then. We’ll be spending this year trying to prepare for the Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. Now I know that the skill level in this class is disproportioned. Some of you in this class have practiced very advanced magic, and you may find parts of the class to not be challenging. If this the case for you, please see me and we will work out a regimen that can challenge you.” The short stocky professor began.

Several heads turned to look at Potter. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“The objective of this class is to ensure that you all graduate from Hogwarts with the ability to defend yourselves from dark magic. Although the war is finally over, there are many wizards who have and will continue to practice dark magic and it is best that you will all be prepared, should you ever encounter any of these wizards.” Weasley chose his words carefully.

Several heads turned to look at Draco. Draco made sure that his face didn’t move a muscle. 

Class continued on like a drag. Weasley spent all of the class going over what material he would be covering for the winter semester. He discussed how they would be using a partner system every single day in class. 

“Make sure you’ve chosen your partners by the next class!” Weasley yelled as everyone began to leave the classroom. 

“Are you done with classes?” Nott asked him as they walked in the hallway. 

“I’m done for the day,” Draco said.

“Want to go back to the common room and toss back a few old ales before dinner?” Zabini asked.

“Yeah.”

And with that, they headed for the dungeons. 

************************************************************************

It had been over a year and half that Draco had been inside of the Slytherin common room, but it was exactly as he had remembered it. The dark underground room was lit up from green lamps and the green from the Great Lake. The black leather couches near the fireplace were empty. He, Nott, and Zabini plopped down on them.

“When are you scheduling Quidditch tryouts this week?” Zabini asked him. 

“Fuck, I forgot that those have to be this week.” Draco frowned.

“I knew McGonagall was an idiot making you captain over me,” Zabini chided.

“No, she was an idiot for making this tosser Head Boy.” Nott grinned.

“I’m really feeling the love,” Draco drawled. “I’ll probably make tryouts this Friday.”

“You’re going to ruin everyone’s Friday, Malfoy.” Zabini shook his head.

“That’s the goal.” Draco smirked.

“We need to get actually good beaters if we want to have a chance of beating Gryffindor this year.” Nott said.

Gryffindor was the favorite for the cup this year. Potter was back and he was captain of the Gryffindor team once more. The head of their house was the greatest Quidditch player that Gryffindor had ever had, beating out even Potter. Potter would be a fool if he weren’t strategizing with Charles Weasley over this season’s plays. 

“Who do we want as beaters?” Zabini asked Nott.

“Probably Crabbe and Flint.” Nott said.

Draco made note of Nott’s comment. Nott was the most clever bastard that he had ever met. Gryffindor, undeniably, had the most athletic team this year; Slytherin would need to outsmart the Gryffindor team if they wanted to win. 

“Malfoy, is it true you walked in Weasley shagging Patil’s brains out last night? Nott asked.

Draco remembered his conversation with Granger. He hadn’t promised her anything about talking to Nott, but his pre-existing guilt when it came to her quickly stopped him from revealing last night’s events. He coughed. “Where’d you hear that?” 

“Where do you think? Probably from Patil’s best friend, Abbot when his head was in between her legs.” Zabini chortled. 

“Abbot, really Nott?” Draco was bemused.

“I can see it. Abbot’s a piece.” Zabini defended Nott.

“Eh, she’s too pure. She has no fire.” Draco inputted.

“Yeah I’m sure that’s why Nott’s nailing her, because of her “fire.”” 

“Nott would just like to say that it hasn’t even been confirmed if he’s actually nailing Hannah Abbot.” Nott interjected with a sly smile.

“Sure, you aren’t. The way Pansy isn’t dying for Draco to get back together with her.” Zabini said sarcastically.

Draco groaned at the mention of Pansy. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you? I’m going to go take a leak on that disgusting note.”

He walked to the men’s toilet. 

He went to a urinal, unbuttoned his pants and pulled his briefs downward. 

“Hello Mr. Headboy.” It was a female’s voice.

Draco instantly turned left to see whom the voice belonged to. It was a fifth year girl he had seen around for years, Eliza Yaxley, daughter of his father’s comrade. Her face was pale, similar to her father’s, but her hair was as dark and shiny as a raven’s. Her eyes were catlike. She was no doubt, an attractive girl, possibly the best looking in her year. 

She looked downwards at his manhood, and her eyes lit up. He instantly zipped his pants upwards.

“What are you fucking doing in the boy’s toilet?” He glared at her.

She didn’t bother answering him. She tugged at the sash holding her robe together. Her robe came flying downwards to the floor.

Draco took a sharp deep breath. She was completely bare. Her skin was porcelain. He couldn’t find any imperfections with it. Draco fought every urge to move his eyes south of her face. “Don’t you dare, Malfoy. She’s fifteen,” he thought to himself. His eyes could see the outline of her large breasts and narrow waist; he refused to break eye contact with her. He ignored the voice in his head that hissed, “she doesn’t look like a fifteen year old.”

“I wanted to properly congratulate you on making Head Boy,” she said seductively. 

“And you wanted to do that by spreading your legs open for me?” he asked.

The shock still hadn’t worn away for him. 

She sashayed her hips towards him. Draco felt the blood in him come rushing downwards. 

“You’re head boy. You will get in trouble if anyone finds out. Imagine McGonagall’s reaction if she found out you shagged an underclassman in the common room bathroom. Imagine Granger’s reaction. Granger would have your head.”

She stopped in front of him.

“What can I say? I knew Malfoys had good taste.”

Without any warning, she rolled up the sleeve of his robe. Draco, still in a state of shock, was confused at why she had chosen his sleeve, instead of his belt. 

She answered his question by staring at the mark on his arm. The expression on her face looked oddly familiar, Draco couldn’t place where he had seen it before. 

Her eyes had widened, filled with pleasure. Her chest seemed to be swelling with excitement. She took her finger and circled his mark, shuddering with gratification. It was at that moment that Draco recognized where he had seen that expression before.

His aunt Bellatrix had always had the same expression on her face when she would longingly look at her master, and would stroke the mark on his arm. The look of pure blind masochistic adoration, let alone the incestuous bit, was too much for Draco to stomach. 

He roughly pushed her hand off of him. He shoved his sleeve down to cover his mark. He said nothing to her, and turned around. He started walking towards the door to exit. 

He stopped at the door and didn’t look back. 

“Ten points from Slytherin.”

He slammed the door.

********************************

Draco ran as fast as he could to the Head’s chambers. Nott and Zabini had called after him as he had ran past them in the common. 

“What about dinner?” Zabini had called out.

“Not now, Zabini!” he had yelled as he ran on. 

He needed to get to the showers as fast as he could. He refused to toss off to a Death Eater groupie. 

His erection was now aching; he needed to jump into a cold shower, fast. Relief caught him when he finally reached the Heads’ chambers. He dove for the bathroom door.

It was locked. He could hear humming coming from in the bathroom.

Draco cursed under his breath. He knocked on the door loudly.

“Granger!”

The humming didn’t stop. His knock went unanswered.

He didn’t have time for this shit. He banged on the door this time.

“GRANGER!” he bellowed.

“WHAT!” 

“I need you to get out of the bloody shower!” he snarled.

“Malfoy, you could have showered in the morning! It’s my turn to use the shower now.” He could feel the self-righteousness that was reeking from her voice.

“Granger now is not the time to be a princess, I need to use the fucking toilet!” He snapped at the door.

“Wait your damn turn, Malfoy!” she yelled back.

“If you don’t get out of the bathroom, I’m going to break this goddamn door down!” He challenged her.

“UGH!” he heard her screech. 

The shower turned off.

“Bloody brute,” he heard her complain, among other savage insults. 

The door came swinging open. 

Granger, wrapped in a pink towel, glared at him. “All yours” she motioned her arm to door, huffing. 

Granger looked at his pants, and saw the tent that had pitched there. She looked back up at him and shook her head with disapproval. “Twat,” she muttered as she walked away.

Draco groaned.


	5. Branding

47 days.

The longest that Hermione had ever not spoken to Ronald Weasley had been 47 days, in their sixth year, after he had started dating Lavender Brown. Thus the fact that Hermione and Ron hadn’t spoken to each other in two week’s time didn’t come as a shock to most of their friends except Harry and Ginny. 

Hermione was eating dinner with Harry in the Great Hall. She watched as her best friend shoveled drumsticks down his gullet without choking. 

“Hermione, I think you would feel better if you just talked to him…He’s just angry right now, but he’ll calm down.” He managed to get out in between chews. 

“I don’t have to apologize for anything, Harry. He wasn’t the one who had to witness his ex fornicating with Padma Patil, out of all people!”

“Well, the chances of you fornicating with Padma Patil are probably very slim. Though come to think of it, that does sound hot as fuck.” Harry said cheekishly, while staring ahead at Padma Patil.

Hermione glared at her raven-haired friend and swatted his arm. 

“Sorry” Harry quickly covered his folly.

“But seriously Hermione, couldn’t you be the bigger person? He’s clearly spiraling down-”

“Harry, no! You always take his side and it’s ridiculous. He needs to apologize to me!” 

“I don’t always take his side.”

“You never take mine and stand against him.”

“You know that it is childish to take sides, and you’re not a petulant person. It would just be easier for everyone if you both could just call a truce.”

“No, I’m done with him, Harry. You need to get over it.”

Harry took the hint and dropped it.

This fight was different from their previous childish fights. This time it wasn’t the bickering that she and Ron used to engage in. This time she didn’t want to make up with him. This time she truly was done.

Hermione wanted Ron’s head. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to hurt the way she had every single time he would malign her in their fights at Hogwarts. She wanted him to the hurt way she had when he had abandoned her in the woods and expected her to take him back with open arms. She wanted him to hurt the way she had when she had just learned that her parents’ memory charms couldn’t be reversed and all Ron had responded with was “at least they’re alive.” She wanted him to hurt the way she had when she found out that he was screwing a blonde socialite four days after their breakup. 

Ron Weasley didn’t have a place in her life anymore. Ron was dead to her and she was determined to make sure he knew it. 

Hermione checked her watch; she was ten minutes late to her study group. 

“Harry, I have to go meet Luna. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“Sure. Remember, think about talking to Ron!”

“Over my dead body!”

With that, Hermione left to meet Luna. 

************************************************************

 

Hermione was in the Ravenclaw common room with Luna after a long grueling day of classes. The Ravenclaw common room had become her new place of solace, with one of her best friends being a Ravenclaw. There was also almost a zero percent chance of Ron being able to solve a riddle correctly to gain entrance to it. 

Terry Boot and Michael Corner had joined them at the couches. Hermione was enrolled in Advanced N.E.W.T. level Charms with almost of the seventh year Ravenclaws. In fact, the only non-Ravenclaws in that class were herself, Malfoy (to her dismay), Nott, Ernie, and Justin. Flitwick was notorious for working students into overdrive in his most difficult Charms class. 

They had their first exam scheduled for the day after tomorrow and Hermione was determined to maintain her reign of Flitwick’s highest scoring student. 

Terry was furiously studying their textbook chapter on Unidentified Protective Spells. Hermione didn’t bother telling her fellow classmates that she wouldn’t need to cover that topic; she had already mastered protective spells to keep the tent hidden for a year. 

Hermione spent 45 minutes practicing nonverbal levitation spells, silently flicking her wand. She was having significant difficulty with the spells, but to her comfort, most of the students in the class could barely get the textbook to lift, silently. 

She had managed to get Michael’s textbook to travel from the couches, to half way across the common room, without uttering a word. The textbook was moving perfectly in the air, until Anthony Goldstein, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, walked out of the boy’s dormitory entrance. 

At 6 “2, he was easily one of the best looking and athletic male students at Hogwarts. His jawline was more structured than Vincent Crabbe’s future. His sky blue eyes complimented his full head of golden hair. Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off of his tall, lean seeker’s build. 

Hermione briefly had eye contact with Anthony and he gave her a nod. Michael’s textbook came flying downward and hit Mandy Brocklehurst on the head with a blunt force. 

“OW!” screeched Mandy.

“Oh god, sorry!”

“Watch it, Granger!”

“It was an accident!”

Hermione was mortified. She quickly scrambled to summon the textbook, but not before she noticed Anthony wink at her before he left the common room. He definitely knew that she had that humiliating accident because of him. She felt her cheeks flush with heat and she was positive that her face was Gryffindor red. 

She turned back to face her study group and found Michael smiling at her, knowingly.

“Shut up.” Hermione buried her face in the textbook, and prayed that death would take her away from the Ravenclaw common room.   
************************************************************

 

At 9 p.m., Hermione decided it was time to return to the Head’s chambers. She had a migraine the size of a pygmy puff, and just wanted to take a long hot shower after the long day she had suffered through. 

She arrived in front of the portrait of the baron. He smiled at her.

“Password?”

“Gillyweed”

The portrait swung open. 

Hermione heard voices as she walked up the flight of stairs leading to the common room.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to penalize us if Crabbe fouls him.” 

“Hooch is in Potter’s pocket.”

“What are the chances that Potter will have Weasley play seeker.”

“Potter’s never played any position other than seeker. I don’t think he’ll switch it up his last game here.”

Hermione walked into the common room to see Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy sitting on opposite ends of the couch. The conversation between the two instantly ended, and there was a brief uncomfortable silence in the common room.

Nott instantly jumped off of the couch. 

“Granger.” He nodded curtly towards her and walked past her to leave the common room.

“Nott” she acknowledged him. 

Hermione focused her attention to the Head Boy sitting on the couch. Malfoy rose to his feet slowly and stared at her. 

“What?” he asked in an accusatory tone.

“I didn’t say anything.” Hermione responded cooly. 

“You look like you have something to say, Granger.” Malfoy said iciliy.

“I didn’t realize that we were bringing people back to the common room.”

Malfoy crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I didn’t realize that I needed your permission to bring people back to the common room.” He responded snarkily. 

Hermione felt anger creep up her throat from Malfoy’s attitude. 

“Considering the fact that 50% of this space is mine, yes I have the right to know who’s coming in my living space,” She huffed at him. 

Malfoy thinned his lips.

“Alright, you can expect to see Nott, Zabini, and Crabbe in here at times.”

“Fine, but I don’t want Pansy Parkinson in here. I know she’s your girlfriend and all, but she’s a vile loathsome piece of work and I will hex her into oblivion if I see her in my common room.”

“Get your facts straight, Granger. I’m not dating Pansy Parkinson.”

“My apologies, even if you’re screwing Pansy Parkinson, I don’t want her anywhere near my common room.”

Malfoy’s steel gray eyes narrowed. 

“I’m not screwing Pansy Parkinson.” He glowered at her.

“Good, I don’t have to see her pug face in my personal space now.” Hermione said pointedly. 

“Granger, did you really just call Pansy Parkinson a pug?” Malfoy’s face and tone were unreadable. 

“That’s why I said, Malfoy” Hermione said succinctly.

She braced herself, as Malfoy would probably jump down her throat to defend his ex-girlfriend. 

To her surprise, he did no such thing.

His face broke into what would have counted as a bemused smile if it were any other person other than Draco Malfoy. 

“I think you meant that she resembles a grindylow. Don’t insult pugs.” He drawled.

“I was trying to be nice. You chose to date that.” Hermione shot back at him.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “You chose to date Weasley. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

Hermione felt her blood turn to fire at the mention of Ron’s name. 

“Point taken, Malfoy,” she conceded to him. 

Hermione walked past him, entered the bathroom, and slammed the door.  
************************************************************

 

“Crucio!”

“Get up you filthy mudblood whore! Get up and fight!”

“Please! Please I didn’t steal anything!”

“You dare to speak to me without my permission, you beast?!”

Someone kicked her in the ribs. The pain was excruciating. 

“Get up and fight me!” the witch’s voice echoed throughout the high ceiling. 

Hermione felt someone yank her upwards by her hair and kick her arse. The force of the kick sent her flying across the room. She landed on the cold marble floor. She looked around the room, hoping to find some means of escape from the inhumane witch. Her eyes landed on a wand, a wand whose allegiance she had not yet earned, but a wand, nonetheless. She tried to lift her arm, if only she could get her hand on the wand, she could possibly make it out of here alive…

 

Bellatrix roared.

“NO! Accio Wand! CRUCIO!” 

The pain was the equivalent of being pricked by 10,000 needles at once. Hermione didn’t have the strength to curl her toes in anguish. Her entire body was on fire; her skull felt like it was being cracked open and bleeding out. 

Bellatrix’s cackles of glee were deafening. 

Hermione felt a new pain surge through her body. It wasn’t being caused by the Cruciatus; it was entering through her mind.

She saw her memories appear, flashing before her eyes and Bellatrix Lestrange in each one.

“NO! STOP IT!” Hermione screamed. The demented bitch had already violated her body but Hermione refused to let her touch her mind.

“Awwwww the little itty bitty mudblood doesn’t know Occlumency, does she?” the dark haired witch chortled, while in a memory of Hermione’s ninth birthday party. 

“You should be thanking me whore. I’m keeping you intact. When Greyback gets his hands on you, you’ll be praying to have me again.”

Bellatrix flashed through other memories: the day Hermione got her Hogwarts letter, her first date with Viktor Krum, summers at the Burrow, the day she got her prefects badge. Hermione’s efforts to stop her were futile. Bellatrix went through each of her memories, like a journal, and defiled each one. 

After what felt like an eternity, Bellatrix finally seemed satisfied that Hermione had indeed not stolen anything from her vault. She put her wand away and began to walk away from Hermione. Hermione’s vision blurred and she fell into a dark abyss. 

Suddenly she was rising, and everything was coming into focus. Hermione opened her eyes to see the most terrifying sight in front of her. She was staring into Bellatrix’s blood hungry eyes. Hermione screamed as loudly as she could at the sight. She felt her body begin to panic, even though her mind was eerily calm. The terrifying witch brought her face close to Hermione’s, where there was barely an inch between the two of them. 

“Do you want me to stop, mudblood?” she cooed.

Hermione had lost her resolve. She had nothing left for the psychotic bitch to take. She didn’t bother answering the witch. 

“Answer me, you filthy dirt breed!” Bellatrix growled.

She didn’t see the point. Maybe this time, she would be driven to insanity the way Frank and Alice Longbottom had been. Insanity was a kinder option than being awake for Greyback’s turn on her.

“Someone… needs to… teach you… some manners. You will speak when a superior addresses you.” Bellatrix said viciously, while climbing on Hermione’s body, to straddle her. 

Hermione felt fear replace the apathy she had just experienced minutes earlier. What was Bellatrix going to do where she needed to be on top of her? Was she planning on running Gryffindor’s sword through her?

Bellatrix pulled out a dagger. Hermione would have laughed from the irony if her entire ribcage weren’t broken. Here was the most powerful witch in the world, choosing to kill a muggle in the most muggle way possible. 

The dark witch pulled Hermione’s arm towards herself. So Bellatrix was going to slash her veins open, ensuring a slow and painful death for her, Hermione thought to herself. 

Hermione felt a cold metal blade stab and cut through into her upper arm. She bit her teeth into lips, trying her best not to scream. She felt the blade cut out of her skin and then enter again. It felt like someone was carving into her, with inscriptions. 

What followed next, hurt worse beyond comparison to any of the damage Bellatrix had done all night. 

Bellatrix shrieked an incantation and suddenly Hermione felt her arm turn burning iron hot. 

Her mouth betrayed her. Hermione screamed louder than she had screamed, possibly ever, in her life. Blood from when she had been biting her lip, spilled out of her mouth and rushed down her face. The pain from her hand was excruciating; it was a mixture of being burned alive, being branded with a pressing iron, and being stabbed simultaneously She could no longer see anything but just white spots, but even so, she knew this was a form of dark magic. 

“This will teach you your place in our world, you filthy animal!” Hermione heard Bellatrix scream. 

The white spots faded after what now felt like a lifetime. Hermione saw a figure approach her. It took her a while, but eventually she recognized the face, it was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looked horrified, as if he were going to puke at the sight of her. Maybe Bellatrix had mutilated her face, and she was now a grotesque beast. 

She watched as Greyback’s body grew closer to her line of vision. Greyback sniffed the air and licked his lips. He drooled, bearing his fangs. Hermione felt her stomach turn. This was it; the worst was about to come. Voldemort killing her would be kinder than what Greyback was about to do to her.

“Madam Lestrange, may I have a turn...after Fenrir?” Hermione couldn’t identify the face that the voice belonged to.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The entire room flashed a blinding green. 

Hermione woke up screaming. 

She instantly grabbed her wand. It took a few seconds for her brain to register that she wasn’t in Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. Her heart rate began to decelerate as she adjusted to the sight of her bedroom. She checked the time; it was 3:00 a.m. Hermione debated falling back asleep but she knew her attempts would be futile. Her night would be spent more effectively if she would study than if she would try to sleep. She grabbed her charms textbook and headed to the common room.   
************************************************************

 

Hermione walked into the common room to find that it was already occupied. 

Malfoy was sitting at the study table doing Arithmancy problems. He looked up from his notepad to notice Hermione in the common room. He didn’t say anything. 

Hermione debated turning around and heading back to her bedroom. She decided that it would be more awkward for her to have her textbook and exit the common room at the sight of Malfoy, than it would be for her to just sit at the study table with him. 

She walked over to the study table and placed her books down; she sat diagonally from Malfoy. He didn’t say a word to her and focused back on his work.

Hermione noticed that he had answered his question incorrectly. She sat there, debating if she should tell Malfoy about the mistake on his homework problem. She didn’t owe him anything and frankly, he was the closest thing to her competition. But the noble Gryffindor in her couldn’t resist.

“Malfoy, you should check number 7. Your answer is incorrect.”

Malfoy broke his concentration and stared at Hermione. His steel gray eyes flashed with annoyance. “My answer is fine, Granger. Why don’t you focus on your own work?” He snapped. 

“It’s not, but suit yourself.”

Hermione focused her attention on her study sheet. The common room was comfortably silent with the occasional sighs and huffs from Malfoy and the sound of pages being turned.

Malfoy broke the silence first. “Fuck” he muttered. He got up, the chair made a loud screeching sound from the abruptness of his rise. He walked over to the couch and plopped down. Hermione decided to ignore him and continue reading. 

She began to smell smoke, cigarette smoke specifically. 

She turned around to see Malfoy lying down on the couch whilst smoking a cigarette.

“Seriously? You couldn’t have gone to your room to smoke that?” Hermione said to him, irritated. 

“As I recall, I was here first, Granger. You’re more than welcome to leave.” He drawled while staring at the ceiling.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Real mature, Malfoy.”

“I do what I can” he said unenthusiastically. 

“You do know that smoking kills, don’t you?” She really couldn’t help herself today with the comments.

Malfoy finally turned his head to look at her. “Don’t tell me you now care about my existence, Granger.” He blew some smoke.

“Why smoke when it just brings you closer to dying?” Hermione asked; a part of her was genuinely curious. 

“Maybe I’m self destructive enough to know that I deserve to die” Malfoy answered solemnly. 

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that so she turned back around.

She decided to attempt to get her textbook to levitate again. Perhaps this time she would be successful without getting distracted by Anthony Goldstein’s aura.

She silently, without touching her wand, lifted her textbook and began shifting it in the air.

“You’re doing it wrong, Granger.”

Malfoy’s comment interrupted her.

She spun around hastily to look at the blonde. “I am not, this is exactly how we’re supposed to do them.”

“Suit yourself” He smirked at her. Malfoy wasn’t being subtle about the irony of this situation. 

Hermione was furious. “Oh yeah? Let’s see you do it better! 5 galleons says you can’t even get yours to move past 2 feet” She challenged him. 

Malfoy didn’t make a sound. His gray eyes locked with her brown.

Suddenly her textbook went flying from one end of the room and hit the wall at the other end of the room. His notepad flew off of the table, past her, and landed on the couch at lightning speed. Three books on the bookshelf flew out of the shelf simultaneously and neatly stacked themselves in front of Hermione. 

Malfoy smirked at her. 

Hermione was in awe at what she had just witnessed.

“How…?! I read the textbook back and forth. How did you…?” She felt both shock and a creeping anger that Malfoy could possibly bring an end to her reign as Flitwick’s top scorer.

“I’m exceptionally good at nonverbal spells.” The tosser replied, his confidence was rolling off the tip of his tongue. “I told you, don’t worry about my work, worry about your own.” 

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

The sodding bastard grinned. 

Hermione was about to give him a piece of her mind but she never got to the chance to. 

The portrait door came swinging open and Blaise Zabini stumbled into the common room. His shirt was soaked in blood. Sweat was running down his face. His shoes had left bloody footprints on the carpet.

Hermione jumped to her feet.

“Blaise, what the fuck?” Malfoy instantly inquired.

Zabini was panting; his face looked horrified. “Draco, it’s Pansy. It’s bad.”

“What the bloody hell happened?”

“You need to come with me. Now.” Zabini’s tone left no room for argument. 

“Is she dead?” Malfoy asked, his tone filled with worry.

Zabini stared at Malfoy and was silent. Instead, he turned to look at Hermione.

“Granger, you should probably come too.” 

Hermione and Malfoy looked at each other. He nodded grimly to her. The three of them began to head out of the common room.

And she had thought that sleeping would have been the hardest option of the night.


	6. Vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this chapter before my other half goes to Europe for the next week and half. Dahlia, this chapter is dedicated to you <3 
> 
> I want to thank my fellow marauders Dahlia and Maricar for helping me plan out the chapter. You were both instrumental in helping this chapter be everything!

Draco had a million questions running through his mind but he could barely ask any of them, due to how fast they were running down the stairs.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Outside the Slytherin common room.” The Italian answered.

“How’d you find her?” 

“Nott and I got really hungry after we smoked, so we were heading to the kitchen to get some left over steak and kidney pie. Pansy was just lying there in a stream of blood when we walked out of the common room.”

Draco could practically hear Granger’s indignation over another Prefect breaking school rules; but he was grateful that she chose to keep her mouth silent at this time. 

“Blaise, is she dead?” Draco asked.

“I…don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Granger inquired, trying to keep up with the two of them.

“She couldn’t talk. She was just bleeding out.” Zabini panted.

“And you just left her by herself?!” Granger exclaimed.

“What! No, do you think I’m an idiot? I left her with Theo. Daphne went to the hospital wing to get Madam Pomfrey.” 

They were finally at the first floor. The Slytherin common room was only five minutes away. 

Peeves, true to his irritatingly unfortunate timing, came cackling from behind.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED! SOMEONE WAKE UP THE HEADMISTRESS!”

God, Draco hated that piece of shit. 

“Expulso!” 

He sent the curse from behind his shoulder, hoping that it would be enough to deter the annoying poltergeist from following them. 

The curse created a loud explosion that echoed around the high walls.

“MALFOY JUST TRIED TO CURSE ME! THE HEADBOY JUST USED A CURSE ON ME!”

Draco looked over his shoulder, while running, and snarled. “Shut up, you ass before I get the Baron to take care of you himself!”

That shut Peeves up quickly.

They were getting closer to the dungeons.

Zabini looked at Draco.

“I came for you specifically, Malfoy, because I think it’s some form of dark magic. The blood just can’t seem to be contained.”

Draco nodded grimly. “Let’s hope it isn’t.”

They were finally in the dungeons, outside of the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Draco stopped breathing for a split second from the sight before him.

Pansy Parkinson’s body, though it appeared more of a corpse, was soaking in a pool of her blood. Her face had been drained of all color. Nott had his hands pressed on one of her gashes; it was a feeble attempt to stop the river of blood seeping out of her body. 

Draco almost instantly recognized the curse that had been performed on Pansy. Zabini had been correct, this was the work of dark magic.

“Get off of her” he instructed Nott. 

Nott quickly took his blood soaked hands off of her and scrambled up. 

Granger intervened. “Malfoy, maybe it’s best if we all just wait for Madam Pomfrey.”

Draco put his hand up to stop her. “I know what I’m doing, Granger.”

He quickly took his wand out and muttered “Vulnera Sanentur.” Pansy’s blood flow began to ease.

“Vulnera Sanentur.” He chanted for the second time. This time Pansy’s wounds had began to knit. 

He said the incantation for the third time. “Vulnera Sanentur.” Pansy finally stopped bleeding.

“Is this dark magic?” Zabini asked.

“Yes” Draco said.

Nott’s eyes flashed with a quick anger. “The real question is who cursed her and left her to bleed out like a savage.”

Draco felt his blood boil as he thought of the only person he knew would cast this curse. He saw red.

“POTTER!” he roared at the top of his lungs. 

He glared at the Head Girl for a split second. Her face had turned sheet pale. 

Draco charged away from the Slytherin common room.

“Malfoy, NO!” He heard Granger yell from behind him. “Don’t leave her side!” he heard her command Nott and Zabini.

“Malfoy, wait!”

Draco ignored her. The image of Pansy bleeding out on the floor was freshly cemented in his mind. He cared about one thing, and one thing only. 

Vengeance.

Potter belonged to him now. He wanted Potter’s head on a silver platter.

“Malfoy, stop you’re not thinking rationally!” He looked over his shoulder to see Granger several feet behind him. Her shorter legs were struggling to keep up with his longer legs. 

She was wrong. Potter knew how to and had cast that dark curse, unless she had already known that and was trying to cover for her best friend right now…

“Locomotor Wibbly!” he heard the witch yell. He silently cast a shield curse. She would have to do better than a funny leg curse if she wanted to stop him from getting to Potter. 

Draco ran up the flight of stairs. Of course the Gryffindor common room had to be so high up in the school. 

He finally stopped in front of the common room entrance. A very obese woman was staring at him with disgust. 

“Who are you?” She looked at him with distaste.

“I reckon you’re not going to let me in, are you.” Draco barked. 

Granger finally caught up and reached the entrance. She was having difficulty breathing.

“Get me Potter! Or I swear Granger, I will wake up all of Gryffindor right now!” Malfoy roared at her.

Granger looked at him solemnly. She sighed, realizing that he wasn’t bluffing. “Wait here. Do not follow me inside. If you try anything when that door opens, I will hex you into the hospital wing.” The witch warned him. 

“Just get me Potter, Granger.” He snapped impatiently. Draco didn’t have time for her list of demands. One of his own had been attacked and noble Potter had been the one to do it. All he cared about now was evening the score: an eye for an eye. 

Several minutes later, the portrait swung open. Draco raised his wand, ready for combat. Granger came out first, her wand in her hand. She shot Malfoy a “no nonsense” look.

Potter emerged from behind Granger, wand in hand. He was wearing a blue shirt and red pajama pants. His glasses were slightly uneven. His hair was a messier travesty than it normally was. 

Potter’s face instantly hardened when he had eye contact with Draco. “Lower your wand before you embarrass yourself, Malfoy,” the tosser said. 

Draco’s blood pressure rose. “Not until you tell me why you attacked Parkinson, Potter. I know growing up motherless meant that you didn’t learn manners, but I never thought that you would attack a woman and leave her wounded,” he sneered.

“Watch it, Malfoy.” Potter spat dangerously, while stepping closer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been in bed all night.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve seen your work first hand. You’re the only person, I’ve ever seen use or know about sectumsempra.”

Potter’s stoic face broke for a split second. That split second was more than enough for a skilled legilimens like Draco to read that he had something to hide. Potter glanced at Granger, as if he were silently speaking to her.

Draco instantly turned his head to look at Granger, to see her staring at Potter. Why was Potter looking at Granger knowingly? Granger had been in the common room with him for the majority of the night…unless it wasn’t Granger that Potter was worried about. It was the missing link of their stupid golden trio. 

Weasley.

“Weasley knows about the curse, doesn’t he? He knows about the time you used it on me, sixth year.” Draco interrogated Potter. Potter’s face confirmed Draco’s suspicions. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. Suddenly his anger was directed towards someone else. He spun his head to face Granger. 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew this whole time that it was Weasley. You knew from the second you laid your eyes on Pansy that it was that fucking loser, and you said nothing!” He screamed at her.

“I didn’t say anything because we still don’t have proof that it was actually Ron who attacked her!” Granger said exasperatedly. 

“That’s a load of bullshit, Granger, and you know it! I’ve been around plenty of dark wizards and none of them have ever used that curse, ever. You and Potter gave the bastard away with your little inconspicuous stares to one another! You want proof? Potter, why don’t you go fetch your bastard friend right now!”

“I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy.” Potter scowled. 

“What a fucking shocker.” Draco mocked. He looked at Granger. “Granger? Do you want to go fetch him since Potter refuses to?” 

The Head Girl crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’m with Harry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Rage replaced the blood in Draco’s veins. He couldn’t believe either of them at this point. 

“You people are unbelievable. You all call yourselves noble and just. You all condemn everyone else who doesn’t see white and black or right and wrong the way you all do. But when one of your own almost commits murder, you’ll go mute!” 

“Don’t talk to us about Ron committing murder, Malfoy. You’ve got plenty of those literal skeletons in your closet!” Potter retorted angrily. “Why don’t you check your tone before you continue, Malfoy. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Ron. You would be rotting in a cell in Azkaban!” Potter bellowed.

Malfoy had lost his patience. Potter, as always, failed to miss the point because of his flawed “superior” moral code. 

“WEASLEY LEFT HER THERE TO DIE!” Draco screamed. He was pretty sure several Gryffindors would wake up at this point. He was back to only seeing red now. 

“HE KNEW THE EFFECTS OF THE CURSE, AND HE STILL CASTED IT AND LEFT HER THERE, BLEEDING OUT! SHE NEARLY DIED! What is the matter with you, Potter?! Does your hero complex not kick in when it comes to your best friend?” 

“And you.” Malfoy turned to look at Granger, his voice reeking of venom. “You have the fucking audacity to preach to me about my judgment. You couldn’t deal with Nott and Finch-Fletchley sending curses at each other and questioned my decisions. Well look at you now, Granger! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING RIGHT NOW PROTECTING WEASLEY? Let me see, Weasley is a prefect just like Nott is, Parkinson is a prefect just like Finch-Fletchley is. Let me see you be high and mighty, now! Now is your chance; go drag Weasley out of bed and punish him for literally nearly killing another student, let alone a fellow prefect!”

Granger didn’t move. 

Draco looked her up and down with complete disgust.

“You’re our HEAD GIRL! You just witnessed a student minutes away from death, soaking in a pond of her blood! You’re willing to look past all of that, just because you’re in love with Weasley. You disgust me, Granger. You’re a fraud. You don’t deserve that badge; you’re not doing right by it. Don’t ever talk to me about being petty ever again, you hypocrite.” 

Granger narrowed her eyes. “Oh piss off, Malfoy. You didn’t care if Nott got cursed but now you give a fuck because it’s Pansy.” 

“How fucking dare you? You don’t get to talk to me about Pansy when you’re protecting her attacker.”

Granger was silent. 

“Potter, this is the last time I’m asking. Get me, Weasley and this night can become easier for us all.” Malfoy asked exasperatedly.

“You’re going to have go through me if you want Ron.” The arrogant toerag challenged him.

Draco considered taking Potter on, but he figured they’d both only end up in the hospital wing with Pansy. 

“You can’t protect him forever. He’s going to have to leave that common room  
at some point, and we’ll be ready for him. We will make him pay.” He hissed at the two Gryffindors.

He turned his back and began walking away from the Gryffindor common room. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Potter and Granger. 

“Fucking pathetic” he shook his head at them. 

Draco stormed away.

**************************************************************************************************

 

Draco decided to go to the hospital wing to check on Pansy’s status. The ward was empty; the only people occupying it were a sleeping Pansy and a sullen looking Daphne Greengrass. 

He walked towards the chair where his fellow Slytherin was sitting. 

“What did Madam Pomfrey say about her injuries?” He asked.

“She’s lucky to be alive. Madam Pomfrey said that she was almost thirty minutes away from dying. She needs a lot of rest, and there’s a solid chance that the scarring won’t ever go away from her back.” Daphne said, not taking her eyes off of Pansy. 

Draco nodded his head. He had suspected that Pansy would probably have scars after this. 

“Who could have possibly done this to her? Why would anyone do this?” Daphne whispered.

He mentally prepared himself to tell Daphne that it was Weasley who had attacked her best friend. He prayed that she wouldn’t start crying upon hearing the news. The last thing he wanted to deal with after this long night was comforting a crying girl. 

“It was Weasley, he cast a dark curse on her. Granger and Potter pretty much confirmed it.” He told the blonde witch. 

Daphne finally took her eyes off of Pansy and looked at Draco. 

“Weasley did this? Where is he? Did you tell Slughorn or McGonagall?” She asked in a scathing tone.

“No one knows yet except for me, Granger, and Potter.” Draco answered her.

“What are you going to do about this, Draco?” Daphne asked in an accusatory manner. It was more of a statement than it was a question. 

“Right now, I’m going to wait until Pansy wakes up so that I can hear her side of what happened.”

“I meant about Weasley. Tell me you’re going to make that blood traitor pay.” Daphne demanded.

Draco felt a tinge of annoyance. Everyone kept demanding so much from him today, as if he was the only Slytherin. It wasn’t her fault though, her best friend had just almost died. 

He nodded his head. “I’m working on it.” 

“You should try and get some sleep.” He instructed the blonde.

“I don’t want to leave, especially in case Weasley comes back here to finish the job.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at her. “Do you really think Weasley could go through me?”

Daphne’s shoulders eased. She stood up. “Let me know if there’s anything that I can do for you, Draco.” 

He nodded at her.

Daphne left the hospital wing. Draco sat down in the chair with his wand in hand. He decided to close his eyes until Pansy woke up…

There was light on his eyes. He cracked his heavy eyelids open. Pansy Parkinson was staring at him. 

“How long have you been awake for?” He asked.

“Long enough to watch you get your beauty sleep.” Pansy said with sass.

Draco chuckled. Pansy had always been an unapologetic bitch. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“Absolutely peachy. I feel like I just came out of a spa weekend.” She said sarcastically. “Get your head out of your ass, Malfoy.”

“I ask because you almost died. We were all terrified.”

“And here I thought you hated me.” Pansy said pointedly.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Pansy.”

“Really? Because you have a funny way of showing it.” She said snarkily.

“I just don’t know how to be friends with you anymore.” He said.

“How would you even know? It’s not like you even tried.” Pansy said. 

“It’s because I know you still want me back. You’re hoping that this will all go away and I’ll come back to you but it can’t happen. I was the worst version of myself when we were dating fifth and sixth year. I had gotten marked. I was in over my head. We were doomed to fail before we even started. It’s not your fault at all. You just represent too much of a dark period of my life and I don’t want to ever go back there.” Draco told her with complete honesty, for the first time in ages. 

Pansy stared at him somberly. Her eyes appeared glassy with a hint of water in them.

“Are the memories with me honestly that bad? You don’t miss me at all?” she said, deadpan. 

“I miss the days when we would just have fun. I can’t remember the last time we just had fun without there being any linger of darkness. Things haven’t been like that in a long time.” 

“Things probably aren’t going to be like that in a long time.” Pansy replied softly.

“I mean, you’re in a hospital bed right now after you got cursed to the point of near death.” Draco said.

She chortled. 

“So, are you going to tell me how it happened?” Draco asked.

Pansy instantly stopped laughing. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She said sullenly.

“I already know that it was Weasley who attacked you. Just tell me what happened.” Draco pushed her. 

“You’re going to judge me.” Pansy said looking at her blanket.

“I’ve known you for 15 years. I highly doubt that you can shock me at this point.” Draco said. 

“So, Weasley and I were patrolling together tonight and so far patrolling with him has been awful. He’s been drunk every single time. Tonight, he started bullying this first year Slytherin boy and I lost my cool. We started arguing for the rest of the night. He went below the belt and called me your whore who you rode and put aside wet. I wanted to draw blood so I asked him if he got to see the look on his brother’s face when he died from that explosion or if he was too busy hitting the bottle.” Pansy said, still avoiding eye contact with Draco.

“Is that when he attacked you?” 

“No. He just called me a filthy cunt and left our patrol. I decided to just go back to the common room. I almost made it to the common room and then I heard someone yell a curse. I turned around to see who it was and I saw Weasley, and then suddenly it felt like someone had slashed me open with a sword all over my body. He instantly cast a silencing charm on me.”

Draco took a sharp breath. “He attacked you from behind.” His knuckles were pale. He was digging his fingernails into his fist, an attempt at reeling his rage in.

“I fell to the ground. I couldn’t talk or scream. It was so dark. Eventually, I thought I had died because I blacked out. Then I woke up to you sleeping here.”

Draco nodded. “He’s not going to get away with this. The absolute nerve of that little bitch, to curse you from behind, to leave you there bleeding out… He will pay, I can promise you that.”

Pansy smirked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Don’t worry about any of that right now. You need to sleep more. I’m going to talk to all of your professors and let them know that you’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.” Draco told her.

“I’m going to go back to the common room. I’ll tell everyone that you’re awake and they can visit you later in the day.”

“Thanks” Pansy said.

Draco nodded earnestly. 

He left the hospital wing and made way for the dungeons.

**************************************************************************************************

 

The Slytherin common room was the most packed that Draco had seen it in the past two weeks. Almost all fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years were in the common room. 

Zabini instantly stood up when Draco walked down the stairs into the common room. 

“What happened?” He asked.

“I just came from the hospital wing. She opened her eyes and she’s talking. You guys can all stop by later in the day. She’s going to sleep for a while.”

Daphne breathed a sigh of relief from the corner of the room. 

“What happened when you went to get Potter?” Nott forthrightly asked. 

“It wasn’t Potter who attacked her.”

“Who was it then?” Nott said bluntly.

“Weasley.”

“It was Weasley who attacked her?” Zabini asked with revelation.

“Why would Weasley attack her?” Darius Berrow, a sixth year asked.

Draco, Nott, and Zabini instantly turned their heads to give the sixth year a look.   
Who did this kid even think he was to speak right now? Draco thought to himself.

“Sorry” Berrow instantly apologized, his face reddened from embarrassment. 

Zabini rolled his eyes. “Why did Weasley attack her?” he asked Draco.

“Apparently he and Pansy had gotten into an argument. Weasley said some things, and Pansy didn’t hold back.” Draco said. Nott nodded his head, unshocked at the news.

“Pansy said that Weasley stormed off and she was walking back to the common room. He attacked her from behind before she could get to the portrait.” Draco continued.

“That bastard attacked her from behind?” Crabbe finally spoke for the first time that night.

Draco nodded his head. 

“Where’s Weasley now?” Graham Montague asked viciously.

“I don’t know. I went to the Gryffindor common room but Potter wouldn’t bring Weasley to me.”

“and you didn’t try to get him yourself?” Crabbe asked with irritation.

Draco felt annoyance creep up his shoulder. This was starting to feel like an interrogation. Were they serious right now? 

“No Crabbe, I didn’t. I went to Pansy instead.”

“So you didn’t even bother going after Weasley and let him sleep instead?” Montague said, shaking his head with disdain.

Draco had lost his patience. “Do you have something you want to say to me, Montague?”

Montague stood up. “Yeah I have about 50 things to say to you, Malfoy.” 

Zabini got in between the two of them. “Woah, calm down there. It’s been a long night guys. We need to keep our heads focused on this situation right now.”

“No, let’s hear what Montague has to say, Blaise.” Draco pushed Zabini out of his way. 

“What the fuck happened to you, Malfoy? You used to be one of us. One of us got attacked tonight by that disgusting blood traitor; and you don’t even give a shit. Where are your balls? You go to Potter and you chummy up to him instead like a pussy. You let Weasley just stay in his bed all night. Where’s your fucking loyalty, Malfoy?! If it was to us, then you wouldn’t be here, you’d be out there getting Weasley!”

Draco did not have enough energy to deal with this right now. He was done with all of them.

“How many of you feel the same way as Montague? Raise your hands, now!” Draco asked.

Most of the hands in the common room went up except for a select few. Nott and Zabini didn’t have their hands up.

“You all have the nerve to question me on my loyalty? I’ve spent this entire night out there for Pansy, for our house. I fucking saved her life! I fucking went to get Potter! I fucking found out that it was Weasley who attacked her! What the fuck have you all been doing? Sitting on your asses waiting for me to come back with all of the news? Did you even think for a second that it wouldn’t be pragmatic to drag Weasley out of his bed, in a lion’s den of Gryffindors. Over 100 hundred wands against one, that’s clearly such a brilliant plan!”

Draco was on one now. 

“You think you have the right to question me? Don’t you dare forget who I am! I am your fucking Head Boy. I am your fucking team captain. I fucking bleed green and silver. I am THE Slytherin. I will get even. I will make sure that Weasley’s blood is drawn.”

“Before any of you ungrateful twats question me, think! We’re already the most hated house here. Most of us are lucky to even be allowed back in this castle. We need to keep our heads down right now. We cannot afford to draw even more negative attention to ourselves. How would it look if the Slytherin Head Boy broke into the Gryffindor common room and attacked precious Weasley? My loyalty is to this fucking house, to that fucking emblem on that wall. Me breaking into the Gryffindor common room tonight, meant our house crashing and burning in every possible way. I’d be damned if I let that happen as our Head Boy!” 

The common room was silent. No one dared to speak. 

Nott stood up. “Malfoy’s right.” 

Draco was seething. His chest was heaving with anger.

Zabini nodded. “I stand with Malfoy.”

Crabbe interjected. “So are you saying we have to let Weasley off the hook?”

Draco rolled his eyes. Crabbe always took too late to catch on.

“No Crabbe. I’m saying that I can’t do anything to Weasley as Head Boy.”

“And I can’t do anything as Slytherin prefect” Nott said dryly.

“I can get him.” Blaise said determinedly. “I’m not Head Boy or Prefect. My actions don’t carry weight.”

Everyone turned to look at Blaise, and they looked back at Draco for approval.

Draco smirked. 

“Go get the bastard.”


	7. Crime and Punishment

Hermione was struggling to breathe. Her eyes were sore from the lack of sleep she had experienced tonight. Her chest was heaving from the lack of oxygen entering her lungs. Her legs ached from the flights of stairs she had just raced them through. 

She had finally made it to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady seemed to be giving Malfoy a hard time of entering.

Malfoy sharpened his gaze and narrowed his cold grey eyes at her. 

“Get me Potter! Or I swear Granger, I will wake up all of Gryffindor right now!” The Slytherin shouted at her.

Hermione debated the option of refusing his request, but it seemed futile. Harry could definitely hold his own against Malfoy, and it was a significantly preferable option than Malfoy causing a scene and waking up other students.

Hermione sighed. “Wait here. Do not follow me inside. If you try anything when that door opens, I will hex you into the hospital wing.” She admonished him. 

“Just get me Potter, Granger.” Malfoy snapped at her impatiently.

Hermione glared at him and turned around to go inside the common room. 

She walked into a barren common room. Not one Gryffindor was awake during this late hour. She silently prayed that Harry was by himself and not with Ginny right now. She ran up the boy’s dormitory stairs. 

“Alohamora” She whispered at the Gryffindor 7th years boys’ door. 

Hermione was welcomed by the loud snores of Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom when she opened the door as quietly as she could.

She quickly made way to Harry’s bed. “Harry” she whispered, while shaking him.

Harry wringed his body in an uncomfortable manner. He opened his eyes. “Hrmph!!” He exclaimed, still half asleep. Harry dove for his wand and pointed it at Hermione. 

“Harry, it’s me!” 

He scrambled to find his glasses and clumsily put them on. “Hermione? What are you doing here…? What time is it?” 

“Don’t say Lumos!” Hermione instructed her friend. Harry lowered his wand.

“What is going on?”

“Harry, it’s an emergency. Pansy Parkinson’s been cursed tonight and Malfoy’s convinced that it was you who cursed her.” 

“What? I’ve been sleeping all night and why would I even curse Parkinson?” 

“I know! Malfoy’s lost his mind and I had to chase him down here. He’s been screaming about how he’s going to make you pay. He’s refusing to leave Gryffindor tower until he talks to you.” 

“Why the fuck does he think I’m the one who cursed her?”

“I don’t know! Just come downstairs with me.”

“Okay but let me get the cloak, just in case.”

“Okay”

Harry jumped out of bed. He walked over to his dresser and moved him arms around in it. “Fuck” He whispered.

Hermione managed to hear him through Neville’s loud snores. “What?” she asked her best friend.

“The cloak’s gone. Ron must have borrowed it.” Harry muttered.

“So? Wake up Ron then.” Hermione persisted. 

“Ron…rarely sleeps here these days.” Harry said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Alright, forget the cloak then. It’s not like you can’t handle Malfoy on your own.” 

Harry nodded his head ambivalently. “True, let’s go find out what git wants.”

They quietly shut the door behind them and made way out of the common room.

Hermione braced herself as she walked out of the common room door. She had her wand in her hand; she was ready to cast a shield charm if Malfoy decided to preemptively attack Harry. 

Malfoy was standing there looking as furious as he had before, when she had left him. He instantly raised his wand upon when his eyes fixed on Harry. 

“Lower your wand before you embarrass yourself, Malfoy,” Harry said with annoyance. 

Malfoy narrowed his steel eyes at Harry. “Not until you tell me why you attacked Parkinson, Potter. I know growing up motherless meant that you didn’t learn manners, but I never thought that you would attack a woman and leave her wounded.”

Hermione wished he hadn’t hit below the belt. Harry’s temper made it so easy for Malfoy to get a rise out of him. 

“Watch it, Malfoy.” Harry stepped closer to the Head Boy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been in bed all night.”

Malfoy stepped closer to Harry. Hermione didn’t dare to lower her wand. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve seen your work first hand. You’re the only person, I’ve ever seen use or know about sectumsempra.” The blond spat at Harry.

Sectumsempra. Pansy had been cursed with sectumsempra. That was impossible. The only people who had ever known about sectumsempra had been herself, Snape, Harry, Ron, and… Ron. Ron hadn’t been in the dorm tonight. Ron was assigned patrol duties with Pansy Parkinson tonight.

Oh god, could Ron have actually done this?

A voice, coming from within her, whispered, “you don’t know who Ron is anymore.”

Hermione glanced at Harry and found Harry staring back at her. Harry had figured it out as well. 

Their brief eye contact went unnoticed by the Head Boy.

“Weasley knows about the curse, doesn’t he? He knows about the time you used it on me, sixth year.” Malfoy berated Harry. 

Harry didn’t answer him, but his shocked, pained face said it all. What was there to say? Ron had hit an unimaginable low tonight. 

Malfoy moved his head to look at her. She could see a volcano of rage building behind his expressionless face. 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew this whole time that it was Weasley. You knew from the second you laid your eyes on Pansy that it was that fucking loser, and you said nothing!” He screamed at her.  
Hermione was dumbfounded. She hadn’t known that Ron had been the one to attack Parkinson upon seeing her. But the second the name of the curse had been uttered, she knew that Ron had most likely been the one to attack her,

But Malfoy wanted answers and he wasn’t going to leave them alone tonight until he got what he wanted. 

“I didn’t say anything because we still don’t have proof that it was actually Ron who attacked her!” Hermione hoped that there was a small chance that he would calm down by listening to reason. 

Her explanation did nothing to dissuade him; it only aggravated him.

The tall, lean Head Boy nearly charged towards her. Hermione’s hand tightened around her wand.

“That’s a load of bullshit, Granger, and you know it! I’ve been around plenty of dark wizards and none of them have ever used that curse, ever. You and Potter gave the bastard away with your little inconspicuous stares to one another! You want proof? Potter, why don’t you go fetch your bastard friend right now!” Malfoy barked at her. 

Hermione had never been face to face, at this near proximity with Malfoy before. She had never noticed how his 6 ‘3, towered over her 5 ‘5. She could feel his controlled anger radiating off his body. Malfoy’s stormy grey eyes locked with her brown. She refused to break eye contact until he did. 

Harry intervened. “I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s face did not even react. “What a fucking shocker,” he said with a derisive tone, while keeping his eyes on her’s.

“Granger? Do you want to go fetch him since Potter refuses to?” He sneered at her. 

Hermione thought to her better judgment. Harry was her best friend and her family. She had to stand by him, whether she approved of doing so or not. He would do the same for her. 

She crossed her arms and shook her head, reluctantly. “I’m with Harry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Malfoy’s face finally reacted. His nostrils flared and his upper lip curled with disgust. His rage was palpable.

“You people are unbelievable. You all call yourselves noble and just. You all condemn everyone else who doesn’t see white and black or right and wrong the way you all do. But when one of your own almost commits murder, you’ll go mute!”   
His voice boomed so loudly over the corridor that Hermione’s hopes of this being a private contained event diminished; half of Gryffindor was bound to wake up from Malfoy’s commotion. 

“Don’t talk to us about Ron committing murder, Malfoy. You’ve got plenty of those literal skeletons in your closet!” Harry snapped angrily. “Why don’t you check your tone before you continue, Malfoy. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Ron. You would be rotting in a cell in Azkaban!” Harry had lost his temper.

“WEASLEY LEFT HER THERE TO DIE!” Malfoy bellowed. Hermione’s ears were ringing at this point. 

“HE KNEW THE EFFECTS OF THE CURSE, AND HE STILL CASTED IT AND LEFT HER THERE, BLEEDING OUT! SHE NEARLY DIED! What is the matter with you, Potter?! Does your hero complex not kick in when it comes to your best friend?” 

Malfoy was right… Hermione couldn’t believe that she was agreeing with the Head Boy, but he was inarguably right. Ron had known the effects of the curse, he had known that Parkinson would die from the curse if left unattended, and he had casted it anyways.

“And you.” Malfoy focused his attention on her now. “You have the fucking audacity to preach to me about my judgment. You couldn’t deal with Nott and Finch-Fletchley sending curses at each other and questioned my decisions. Well look at you now, Granger! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING RIGHT NOW PROTECTING WEASLEY? Let me see, Weasley is a prefect just like Nott is, Parkinson is a prefect just like Finch-Fletchley is. Let me see you be high and mighty, now! Now is your chance; go drag Weasley out of bed and punish him for literally nearly killing another student, let alone a fellow prefect!” Malfoy screamed viciously at her.

How long did they expect to protect Ron for? How could they possibly justify protecting Ron after he had attacked another student, a prefect nonetheless?

“You’re our HEAD GIRL! You just witnessed a student minutes away from death, soaking in a pond of her blood! You’re willing to look past all of that, just because you’re in love with Weasley. You disgust me, Granger. You’re a fraud. You don’t deserve that badge; you’re not doing right by it. Don’t ever talk to me about being petty ever again, you hypocrite.” 

Did he really think she was protecting Ron out of love? Malfoy wouldn’t know what love was if it clocked him over his head with a hammer. Who was he, out of all people, to call her a fraud?

“Oh piss off, Malfoy. You didn’t care if Nott got cursed but now you give a fuck because it’s Pansy.” Hermione retorted at him.

Malfoy raised his wand at her swiftly, where it was positioned an inch away from her chin. 

“How fucking dare you? You don’t get to talk to me about Pansy when you’re protecting her attacker.” He gritted through his teeth.

Hermione gulped. He could curse her, not that he would…, if she opened her mouth, and he would be faster than she would be at raising her wand and blocking his curse… It was pragmatic for her to be silent and not add fuel to his fire. 

She refused to back down to him though, so she kept her eyes stubbornly fixed on his. 

Malfoy broke away from their eye war and looked at Harry.

“Potter, this is the last time I’m asking. Get me, Weasley and this night can become easier for us all.” 

Harry stood his ground. “You’re going to have go through me if you want Ron.” 

Malfoy’s face hardened.

“You can’t protect him forever. He’s going to have to leave that common room  
at some point, and we’ll be ready for him. We will make him pay.” Hermione swore he almost sounded like a serpent.

Malfoy turned his back and began walking away from the Gryffindor common room. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at them. 

“Fucking pathetic” he shook his head at them and marched away self-righteously. 

 

Hermione waited until she was absolutely certain that Malfoy was out of earshot before speaking. 

“Harry, what the hell?” She said to her friend, full of worry.

“I know” Harry’s eyes were widened. His tone was monotonous.

“How could he do this? What was he thinking?” She was reciting her thoughts out loud, more so than actually asking Harry. 

“I don’t think he was thinking.” Harry said sullenly.

“We have to find him before anyone else does. This is bad. He’s in serious trouble right now.” 

Harry nodded at her. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pajama pants and held his wand to it. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” 

Harry studied the map for several minutes. He squinted his eyes and scratched his head. 

“What?” Hermione inquired.

“He’s no where on Hogwarts grounds right now.” Harry said, dropping his arm in frustration. 

Hermione closed her eyes briefly. Where could Ron have possibly gone?

She opened her eyes. “We need to get to Charlie, right now,” she commanded.

“Do you think Ron went to him?” Harry said, perplexed.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know, but he’s the head of our house and we need his help.” 

Harry looked at the map again. “Charlie’s definitely sleeping right now.” 

“Let’s go share the wonderful news about his brother now.” Hermione said deadpan. 

They made way to leave Gryffindor tower.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Hermione had never been to the south side of the Serpentine Corridor. She was accustomed to roaming the north side for Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, but the south side had always been restricted. The time of night and darkness were not putting her at ease as well. 

“Hermione, are you absolutely certain that we’re not putting Charlie at risk, visiting him at this time?” Harry whispered to her.

“Why would Charlie be at risk? And honestly, do you really think one more broken rule matters at this point of the night?” Hermione whispered hurriedly to Harry.

“I don’t know… it may look like he was soliciting services from you in exchange for…”

Hermione sharply turned her head to look at her raven-haired friend. Harry didn’t finish his sentence; his discomfort was apparent.

“First of all, I don’t think anyone would question my academic integrity, ever, Second of all, why would I bring you, along with me if Charlie was “soliciting services” from me. Third of all, can you think of any other better idea than talking to Charlie right now?” Hermione whispered furiously.

“Sorry” Harry muttered awkwardly.

Hermione walked silently, fuming.

“I mean honestly, Harry!-”

“There are bigger things to worry about right now, Hermione!” Harry sighed.

“Right” Hermione said curtly.

“Of course Ron had to take the cloak with him, while he was at it.” She muttered with annoyance. 

“It would make sense, especially since he’s terrible at apparating.” Harry said.

“Okay the map says that we’re here.” 

They were in front of a large black door with the name “PROFESSOR CHARLES WEASLEY” printed on it. 

“Do you want to knock?” Harry asked. 

“Oh no- I’m quite alright, actually. I think you should knock.” Hermione chirped.

Harry raised his eyebrow at her.

“What? He loves you, he won’t say anything if you’re the one who knocks!” She said indignantly.

“I was not emotionally ready for this shit, tonight.” Harry grumbled.

He knocked firmly on the door, three times. 

They stood there in silence. 

“Do you think he heard you? Should you knock again?” Hermione whispered impatiently. 

“Give him a minute…” Harry said. 

“Lumos!” She heard a familiar voice say from the other side of the door.  
The door swung open. 

Charlie Weasley was wearing a Puddlemere United’s shirt and pajama pants. 

“Blimey, Harry… Hermione? What are you two doing out of bed?”

“Charlie, it’s an emergency,” said Harry. 

Charlie looked half asleep and confused. “At 4:30 in the morning?”

Hermione cut to the chase. “It’s Ron. He’s attacked another student and we can’t find him. We didn’t know what else to do right now.” 

That seemed to wake Charlie up. The short stocky Weasley paled at her words. He nodded his head.

“I think it’s best that you both come in right now… We shouldn’t be discussing this in the hallway.”

They walked into Charlie’s quarters. 

Charlie sat back down on his bed. “So what is going on exactly? Tell me everything.”

“So Zabini came into my common room about an hour and half ago. He told me and Malfoy that Pansy Parkinson had been attacked. She was outside of the Slytherin common room near the dungeons, bleeding out. I didn’t recognize the curse but Malfoy instantly did. He went to get Harry instantly because he thought that Harry had attacked her. Harry was sleeping all night though so it would be impossible for him to have cursed her.” Hermione rambled.

“What was the curse? And where was Ron in all of this?” Charlie asked carefully.

“Sectumsempra.” Harry said firmly.

“I’ve never heard of that curse. It must be dark magic. The curse causes the victim to bleed out, you say? Why would Malfoy think you would know the curse?” Charlie asked.

“It’s not a common curse… I had read it in the doodles of an old used potions book. Malfoy and I got into a duel in our sixth year, and he sent the Cruciatus my way, and I quickly cast the curse, having never seen it used before.” Harry looked ashamed. “Needless to say, the only people who had ever seen or heard about the curse and its effects are myself, Malfoy, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron. Malfoy, unfortunately, has a solid alibi, having been with Hermione during the time of the attack. Ginny couldn’t have cast the curse-” Harry turned scarlet. “- she was with me for the majority of the night and she went to bed exhausted. So that leaves Ron, and I can’t find him anywhere on Hogwarts’ grounds and my cloak is missing.” 

Charlie sighed and put his hand to his forehead. “You’re absolutely certain that Ron isn’t on Hogwarts’ grounds?” 

Harry nodded. 

“This doesn’t look good for Ron at all. What’s the status on Parkinson right now?” Charlie asked, clearly distressed.

“She’s most likely in the Hospital Wing right now. Malfoy managed to heal her cuts completely and stop the bleeding. Madam Pomfrey was already on her way when we left for Gryffindor tower.” Hermione answered him. 

“It’s only a matter of time before she opens her eyes and names Ron as her attacker.” Harry said with trepidation.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think so. Pansy worships all things Slytherin. Slytherin House doesn’t rat. I can’t see Pansy openly naming Ron as her attacker.” 

“Pansy Parkinson hates Ron, Hermione! She would do anything to get him in trouble.” Harry said doggedly.

“Yes, she hates him, but she hates McGonagall and the administration more! If anything, Ron has more to fear from the Slytherins who want their revenge than from Pansy going to McGonagall and naming him as her attacker,” insisted Hermione. 

Charlie seemed unaffected by their reasoning. 

“Has anyone informed the Headmistress about this, so far?”

Charlie took the silence in the room to mean a “yes.”

“Okay we’re going to go to the Headmistress now before she hears this from anyone else. Maybe she’ll have an idea of where Ron could have gone. I’m going to owl the burrow right now. If Ron has gone there, which I doubt he has, mum will notify me instantly.” 

Charlie quickly wrote a note and rolled it into a tiny scroll. He attached it to his owl’s leg and sent it off.

“Let’s go,” he instructed them. 

They immediately left for McGonagall’s office. 

“Could McGonagall actually expel Ron for this?” Harry asked Charlie uncertainly.

“We’re about to find out” Charlie said gravely.   
Hermione gulped as they came to face the familiar gargoyle statue, guarding the Headmistress’ office. She was terrified of seeing McGonagall’s stern face, or worse her disappointed face.

“Felis Chaus” commanded Charlie. 

The gargoyle leapt aside, and revealed the familiar ascending circular statue. They followed Charlie up the staircase. Finally, they arrived at the Oaken door of the Headmistress.

Charlie knocked on the door. 

“Come in” McGonagall’s sharp voice called out. 

Charlie pushed the door open. 

Hermione walked into the room, after Charlie, to find Draco Malfoy seated in a chair across from McGonagall at her desk. He turned around to glare at them.

“Allow me to take guess, this discussion will involve Mr. Weasley’s whereabouts.” McGonagall said icily, giving them a piercing look.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Professor McGonagall looked the least bit pleased. Her hair was in a tight bun, but several hairs were unusually out of place. She was wearing a maroon night robe. It was evident that she had woken up much earlier than she had intended to.

“Shocked to see me here, dickwads?” Malfoy jeered at them

“Language, Malfoy.” McGonagall glared at her Head Boy. 

“Granger, Potter, take a seat next to Malfoy. Charles, Malfoy was just informing me about your brother’s attack on Pansy Parkinson tonight. You have heard all of the details so far, correct?” said McGonagall curtly.

“Correct, Headmistress,” said Charlie. 

“Are you aware of your brother’s current location?” asked McGonagall.

“No. I came to you in, immediately after hearing the news, in hopes that you would have an answer to that very question,” replied Charlie.

“I cannot find a trace of Weasley on the entire Hogwarts’ grounds” McGonagall said. “Perhaps one of you two can think of where he may have gone at this late at night.” She said scathingly.

Hermione winced internally from McGonagall’s apparent displeasure towards them. 

“I’ve already written to mum, we’ll know if Ron stopped by the burrow soon,” offered Charlie.  
“He might be at-” Harry paused, looked at Malfoy, and coughed.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “At where, Potter? Finish the damn sentence.”

“Professor… I don’t know if it’s best to reveal this information in front of Malfoy, out of all people; for Ron’s safety.” Harry said warily.

“It’s fine, Potter. If your location is correct, should any harm fall on Weasley, Mr. Malfoy will solely face all of the consequences for harming him.” McGonagall said, giving Malfoy a pointed look.

Malfoy scowled. 

Harry glared at Malfoy and turned his focus towards McGonagall.

“I think he might have gone to …Padfoot’s place. It would be safe there now and the wards there would allow him in there.”

Hermione quickly looked at Malfoy. His face had a confused expression and showed no indication that he had recognized the name Padfoot. 

“Very well, Potter. Charles, is there any chance you could stop by that place today and see if Weasley is there? If he is, do bring him back to Hogwarts,” said McGonagall.

“Are you going to expel Weasley when he gets back…Professor” Malfoy asked tersely. It was more of a statement than it was a question. 

Harry jumped out of his seat. “You can’t expel Ron, Professor! He made one mistake, but that doesn’t erase everything he’s done for this school, for Gryffindor!” 

“Potter, sit down!” barked McGonagall. “I have no intention of expelling Weasley.”

This time it was Malfoy who sprung out of his seat. “Is this some sort of sick joke? How can you not expel that bastard!” 

“Language, Malfoy!” McGonagall said furiously. “I have no evidence to expel Weasley.”

“You have all the evidence, you need! Not one person in this room is denying that it was Weasley who attacked Pansy!” argued Malfoy.

“No, Malfoy. This is all speculation. All of you have already condemned Mr. Weasley in your heads.” McGonagall refuted. 

“Pansy told me, herself, that Weasley was the one who attacked her!”  
Hermione took a sharp breath. A small part of her had been hoping that Ron hadn’t been the one have attacked Parkinson, but now there was irrefutable proof. 

“Unfortunately, Ms. Parkinson will have to come to me directly and tell me that Weasley was the one to attack her. Otherwise, as of right now, its just hearsay coming from you,” said McGonagall calmly. “But I suspect that you already know that Ms. Parkinson will most probably not be stopping my office willingly anytime soon.”

“This is bollocks! You have more than enough information to expel, Weasley. You’re just refusing to because he’s a precious war hero and it would terrible PR for Hogwarts!” Malfoy spat at the Headmistress.

“Mr. Malfoy! May I remind you that you are speaking to your Headmistress! You may not like me very much in this moment, but you certainly will respect me!” McGonagall ordered sharply. 

Malfoy crossed his arms indignantly. 

“Even if Ms. Parkinson were to come to me and name Weasley as her attacker, there are no eyewitnesses to the attack. It would come down to an argument of Parkinson’s word and Weasley’s word; and, as you are aware, Weasley’s word holds more weight than Parkinson’s word holds. My hands are tied,” said McGonagall. 

Malfoy shook his head at McGonagall disapprovingly. “He’s a prefect.”

“You were a prefect when you put Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius” Harry said snidely. 

McGonagall said nothing.

“Allegedly, Potter and I never attacked and left another…student to die,” said Malfoy with annoyance.

“What’s your explanation for Hermione in Malfoy Manor then?” retorted Harry.

Hermione’s veins turned to ice at the mention of Malfoy Manor. 

She glanced at Malfoy, whose usual bloodless face had paled at Harry’s comment. 

“That’s enough from both of you!” McGonagall was furious now. 

“Malfoy, it’s time for you to return to your chambers. I’ll inform Sybill to excuse you from morning class tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

“You’re kicking me out? They’re the ones in the wrong here! Does none of that matter if you wear a stupid Gryffindor badge!” protested Malfoy.

“Malfoy! I am not going to argue with you! Do not push me or I will take points off!” McGonagall said sternly.

Malfoy muttered some obscenities that Hermione was certain that McGonagall could heard, but the Headmistress didn’t even blink. He glared at both Harry and Hermione as he stormed away from them.

He slammed the door shut. 

McGonagall sighed. 

“Charles, I need you to remain in my office for some time. I would like to talk to you and Horace about how we will manage this situation between the houses.” 

Charlie nodded.

“And you two.” McGonagall turned her attention back to Hermione and Harry. “I want you both to return to the Gryffindor common room. You will inform as many of your housemates as you can of this situation. Tell them to be careful for the next couple of weeks. I fear that there are dangerous times ahead of us now.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” asked Harry, perplexed.

“This is not good for interhouse conflict at all, Harry” Hermione answered for McGonagall.

“How does this one thing have anything to do with interhouse conflict?” asked Harry, his confusion still apparent.

“Slytherin already feels like the bad seed out of all of the houses. Most of their parents have been imprisoned, killed, or socially tarnished. They feel unsupported in this school. The last thing Professor McGonagall needs is for Slytherin to feel like Gryffindor was blindly favored in this situation, because a Slytherin was the victim,” clarified Hermione.

“And if Slytherin does end up feeling that way?” Harry asked, although his tone indicated that he already knew her answer.

“Then there’s a strong chance that Slytherin might just declare war with Gryffindor,” Hermione said with certainty.

The silence in the room spoke volumes. 

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

The Gryffindor common room was already filled when they had returned to it from McGonagall’s office. News of what had happened already spread. 

Ginny stood up immediately when Harry and Hermione entered through the portrait hole.

“Is it true?” the redhead asked.

Harry looked at Hermione quickly; avoiding being the one to confirm the news to the person he loved most. 

Hermione nodded her head. 

Ginny sank down slowly onto her chair. 

“Alright-err- listen up every one! Yes, tonight Ron attacked Pansy Parkinson, as I’m sure you’ve all have heard by now. We do not know where Ron is currently. Professor Weasley has gone searching for Ron. Ron will not be expelled.” Ginny breathed a sig of relief. “We’ve been instructed by Professor McGonagall to inform you all of this news and to stay extra safe and lay low for the next couple of weeks.” Harry said to everyone.

“Safe from what?” Seamus Finnigan said, confused.

“Primarily all Slytherins.” Hermione answered.

“When have we ever laid low to Slytherin, let alone anyone?” Dean Thomas interjected.

“When have Slytherins ever broken their nails for anything?” jeered Seamus.

Neville Longbottom laughed and fist bumped Seamus. 

“That’s enough!” Hermione yelled. “This isn’t funny! One of our housemates viciously attacked another student today and won’t be facing any consequences for his actions. All of Slytherin must be furious right now and they’ll be looking for ways to take out their anger on us.” 

“So what? Most of us know how to duel and protect ourselves. We’ll be ready for them if they want a battle.” Ginny said with flaming passion. 

“No! The last thing we need is for any battle, even miniscule in size to occur with Slytherin! That’s how a war will start and that is the last thing that the school needs right now!” Hermione reprimanded.

“If any Slytherin wants a go, I’m ready with hexes at hand.” Parvati Patil said adamantly.

Half of the common room cheered at Parvati’s words.

“Any Gryffindor who attacks a Slytherin preemptively, will immediately be serving detentions for the rest of the school year and will have 50 points taken away from Gryffindor!” Hermione declared, furiously.   
The cheering stopped and commotion began. 

“OH COME ON-”

“Hermione that’s not fair!”

“Why’s she being so unreasonable?”

“Potter, talk some reason into her!”

The mention of Harry’s name lit a fire in Hermione’s chest.

“Harry has no say whatsoever here!” She barked at her fellow housemates. Harry sheepishly looked at her.

“I am your head girl! Don’t you ever question my authority again! Harry has no power or say in this matter. I am commanding all of you to not strike first at any Slytherin! We should all be ashamed of ourselves. One of our own attacked a student today and not one point was taken off in his name. We should be hanging our heads low out of shame! Imagine what the other houses will think of us soon, with us protecting Ron and doing nothing? I will not tolerate another one of us besmirching our house’s reputation!”

Parvati Patil interrupted. “But-”

“No! I won’t hear a single argument right now! 10 points from Gryffindor, Patil!” roared Hermione.

“Not one more word from any of you, or I swear I will take 100 points off tonight! Go back to your dormitories,” Hermione commanded.

Hermione got a lot of dirty looks as her fellow housemates begrudgingly went back to their beds.

She turned to look at Harry whose eyes had widened. 

“What?” she snapped at her friend.

“Remind me to never question your authority again” Harry mocked.

“Shut up” Hermione smirked.

Harry chuckled.

“Actually Harry, there is something that you could do for me” said Hermione.

“How long is this going to take?” Harry said before yawning. 

“Not that long. Can you bring me the deluminator that Dumbledore left Ron?” Hermione asked, hoping that Ron had brought the device with him to Hogwarts.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it now. Why…? Are you trying to look for Ron yourself?” Harry asked quizzically.

Hermione shrugged. “I figure it’s worth a shot?”

Harry gave her an unreadable expression and nodded. “I’ll go get it.” He headed up the stairs to the boy’s dormitories.

“I’ll wait here!” Hermione called out. 

Harry returned a few minutes later with the device in hand. 

“Thank you!” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and reached out for the device. She tried to pull the device from Harry’s hand but his grip had tightened around it.

“You still care about him, don’t you?” Harry asked deliberately.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. His grip loosened around the deluminator. She retrieved it from his hands.

Hermione spun around and made her way out of the common room. 

“Good night, Harry!” 

She didn’t need to turn around to know that her best friend was smiling.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione walked the dark hallways of Hogwarts with the deluminator on. She pointed her wand to the deluminator and instructed it. “Bring me towards my light. Specialis Revelio!”

It was worth a shot. She had spent years thinking that Ron was the love of her life. Maybe the deluminator would pick up on it and give her clues to where Ron was now.

The light from the deluminator traveled as if it had a life of it’s own. Hermione followed it, hoping that it would bring her to any possible clue.

To her disappointment, it brought her to the Head’s common room. Apparently the light of her life was currently her living quarters; realistically, currently her bed, Hermione thought to herself. 

Hermione found herself facing the familiar portrait of the baron.   
“Devil’s Snare,” she uttered.

The baron smiled and swung the door open.

Hermione walked into the common room and stopped briefly in her tracks.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the couch, a glass in hand. Hermione was willing to bed 20 galleons that it wasn’t water going down his throat. He finished the rest of the liquid in his glass and got up off the couch.

Hermione walked past him to walk towards her bedroom.

Malfoy finished the rest of the liquid in his glass and got up off the couch. He trailed behind her. 

They both stopped individually in front of their respective bedroom doors. 

Hermione glanced at the Head Boy.

Malfoy shook his head and gave her a look of complete venom, of pure contempt. He opened his bedroom door and slammed the door shut.

Hermione sighed. It was going to be a very long day.


	8. Civil War

There were many moments that Draco had absolutely loathed Gryffindor house. Each Quidditch Cup Potter had won them, every time the Great Hall was adorned with red and gold and that beast of a Lion at the end of the year, the inflation of house points they received every time the Golden Trio breathed. But tonight, he had never hated Gryffindor House more.

Draco couldn’t believe the shit he had just had to endure. What the fuck was that old hag thinking turning a blind eye to Weasley? Her bloody hands were tied, his ass. His blood was still boiling after having left her office. He debated going back to the common room to get some sleep, but he knew that if he saw Granger he would possibly curse her in fury. He was too angry to be near any Gryffindor right now. No, he needed to calm down before going back to the Head’s common room. He needed to go to the one place where people would be as angry as he was right now; the Slytherin Common room. 

Thankfully, when he entered the common room, everyone was still awake. All of his housemates stopped their conversations and looked at him at once. 

“How was McGonagall?” asked Goyle. 

“McGonagall isn’t going to do shit for us.” Draco replied, his voice was shaking from his anger. 

“What was her reaction?” asked Nott coolly.

“She didn’t have one. She fucking sat there and told us that she wasn’t going to do anything because Weasley wasn’t on school grounds and there were no witnesses to what happened between him and Pansy. She had the nerve to fucking tell me that it came down to a matter of Weasley’s word vs. Pansy’s word and that Pansy’s word wouldn’t hold up to Weasley’s,” snarled Draco.

This caused an angry commotion in the common room. The Slytherins were outraged at the treatment, or lack thereof, of their housemate and friend. 

“Everyone, be quiet!” Zabini commanded. “So what McGonagall is okay with letting attempted murder get swept under the rug?”

“Is this really shocking information though?” Nott answered Zabini’s question with a question of his own.

“What?” said Zabini.

“I mean the same thing happened to Draco sixth year. We all remember Potter attacking Draco and the head of our house didn’t bother reporting it to Dumbledore because he knew how insulting it would be when Dumbledore would let Potter go with a slap on the wrist,” said Nott. “Think about it, this is the woman who said nothing when Potter and Weasley broke about fifty laws flying that car into Hogwart’s Property. She sent every single Slytherin to the dungeons during the battle at Hogwarts. She’s always had a soft spot for Weasley and she’s not about to change that for Pansy.” 

“So what, we’re supposed to let this go just because we understand that McGonagall is a useless bitch?” growled Zabini.

“No,” said Draco.

“Then what the fuck do we do? What does this mean for us?” asked Montague.

“This means war. Us versus. them. No limits.” Draco said with ferocity. “We are going to watch Weasley bleed at the end of this school year. I promise you all that. You can take that to Gringotts.”

His housemates had facial expressions similar to his own. They were all seething. They knew that he was making the right call.

“This has gone on enough. How long have we had to bear the burden of our families’ actions? The blatant discrimination that our house gets is fucking preposterous. How is it that first year Slytherins, ten year olds, get discriminated against by upperclassmen? We’ve done our fucking apologizing. We’ve done our fucking repenting. It’s over now. We’re damned if we do, we’re damned if we don’t. No more laying low. We’re not going to be their fucking doormats. If McGonagall won’t do anything for us, then fuck her. We’ll take our vengeance ourselves,” preached Draco. 

His housemates were nodding their heads at him. 

“What if McGonagall expels us?” asked Flint. 

“Does it matter at this point? Would you rather stay in this school, a eunuch with no self respect or be expelled with your dignity?” Draco reasoned. “All of us have more than enough family money to live off of for generations to come and there are plenty of jobs that would hire us for our family names alone. We have nothing to lose at this point; this is rock bottom.” 

“What’s our end goal?” asked Zabini.

“It’s the same as always; Power. We need to get our power back. I want the Great Hall to be covered in Green and Silver at the end of this year. I want to see our Serpent hang tall and proud above McGonagall’s head. I want to see Potter’s face when we win the Quidditch Cup this year. I want to see an unapologetic Slytherin clinic this year. I want every single Gryffindor and whoever decides to support them, to feel our wrath. I want our reign of terror to begin,” commanded Draco, his quench for blood. 

He wasn’t the only one thirsty for blood. The Slytherins were cheering furiously, as if someone had given them their life source back after a long draught.

Draco was on a high off of his blood rage and the cheers in the common room. The Gryffindors were going to have to pay one way or another.

****************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Draco woke up to the sound of his clock chiming. He checked the time to see that it was 11 am. He had only slept for 4 hours. He was used to sleeping 4 hours a day, but with last night being as exhausting and long as it had been, those 4 hours felt like death right now. He needed sleep desperately, but today's exigent circumstances made sleep not a viable option. He threw his blanket aside, and arose out of bed. He took a quick glance at himself in the mirror. Exhaustion was unbecoming of him. He threw a pair of silk pajamas on; he didn't want to grace Granger with the sight of him in just his boxer- briefs. 

Granger. The thought of her possibly seeing her outside of his room was already ruining his morning. To say that he was furious at her would have been an understatement. She didn't belong in this common room. She didn't deserve that badge. She didn't deserve to be Head Girl. He was going to make sure that she understood exactly how unwelcome she was going to be in this common room. He opened his bedroom door and braced himself.

But nothing appeared to upset him. There was no sight of Granger in the common room. In fact, the common was immaculate, which was rare. Granger always left books open and a plate of whatever she usually ate for breakfast along with a cup of leftover tea, much to his chagrin. They had squabbled over the fact that Draco had gotten Winky the school elf to come and clean up after Granger. 

"How dare you bring an elf to clean up after me! They are not slaves!" She had exclaimed. 

"Well I figured someone had to clean up after you, I don't want to live in an art farm!" Draco had retorted. 

"Did you even pay attention to S.P.E.W.?" Granger said indignantly. 

"Just clean your damn mess, Granger" he had said with exasperation before leaving the common room. 

Draco looked around the common room. She had cleaned up after herself today. It was almost as if she was never here. As if she had known that he would be ready to pick fights with her. He went to go check on the bathroom. 

She always left that a mess too with all of her weird muggle bath bombs and her hair products. He entered the bathroom saw the same thing as the living room, Granger had removed all of her things from the room. Her lavender scented shampoo and conditioner were gone. Her soaps and body wash were gone. Even her toothbrush was gone. He snorted, she was such a coward. The bloody Gryffindor didn't even have the gall to face him after last night.

Draco brushed his teeth furiously. He would have to stop by the hospital wing to talk to Pansy. McGonagall's words were still fresh in his mind from last night. He had heard her objectivity loud and clear. If he could Pansy to talk to McGonagall, however, that could possibly force the headmistresses’ hand in their favor.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t have enough energy to bother making himself look better. It was going to be a long day. 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Pansy’s corner of the Hospital Wing was very crowded. She was sitting up straight with her back leaning on her bedpost for support. A significant number of Slytherins had come to visit her and had brought cards and flowers with them. Among the group of them were Blaise, Goyle, Daphne, Tracey Davis, Graham Montague, Astoria Greengrass, and Eliza Yaxley. The chatter came to an end when they noticed Draco’s presence. Pansy’s face tensed as he walked closer towards her bed. 

“What, you couldn’t be bothered to bring me flowers?” Pansy said with disapproval.

“I don’t think flowers can surpass saving your life, among the list of gifts I’ve given you today” said Draco dryly. “Actually, I’m here for a word.” 

He looked at the other Slytherins who were just staring at him. 

“Alone.” He said in a pointed tone. 

Zabini was the first to move. “Come on all, let’s leave them be.” He got up off the chair and started walking towards Draco before he paused. 

“Seriously Malfoy, you couldn’t be bothered to bring her flowers? How much of a dick are you really?” Zabini was biting his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

“Oh piss off, Zabini,” said Draco. 

Pansy squinted her eyes as she watched their interaction.

“Good luck” said Zabini giving Draco a look. 

The others followed after Zabini. Draco tensed as he saw Eliza Yaxley coming near his direction. Their last encounter had not gone forgotten by him…

“Goodbye, Mr. Head Boy” Eliza said smirking as she walked by him. 

Draco had never been so grateful for his pale complexion, as he was in that moment. 

He turned his head to watch as she walked away from him. He managed to appreciate her shapely ass as she sauntered away. He was never going to shag her, but that wasn’t going to prevent him from noticing her assets; especially after he had seen them naked. 

He turned his head to find a very furious Pansy Parkinson glaring at him.

“What the hell was that!” Pansy yelled, her voice was very shrill.

Draco feigned obliviousness. “What was what?”

“Why was Eliza calling you “Mr. Head Boy” Pansy raised her pitch in an attempt of a caricature of Eliza, “And why the hell were you checking her out in front of me?!” 

“Uh, it’s a long story” Draco said avoiding this uncomfortable discussion to the best of his abilities.

“Did you shag her?! What the hell Draco, you told me you weren’t going to be doing any of that anymore! Especially when all of the girls you’ve shagged before have already graduated! You promised me you would never shag any of my friends!” Pansy yelled at him hysterically.

“You do realize how that pretty much limits my dating options to only Goyle and Zabini, considering that the only girls who don’t hate me in this school are Slytherins and all of them are your friends.” Draco said snarkily to her.

“I don’t care. My friends are off limits, Malfoy. I don’t care if you have to shag Goyle every single day of this term. Back the fuck off!” Pansy demanded.

“Calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I haven’t shagged any of your friends, ever. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not actively trying to date or shag anyone anytime soon.” 

Pansy was awkwardly silent before finally speaking. “Good,” she said uncomfortably.  
“So what did you want to talk about?”

Draco cleared his throat from the awkwardness in the room before he began. “I met with McGonagall last night-” 

“What? No! No! What the hell, Draco? No!” Pansy cut him off before he could even start talking to her. 

“Let me finish” he said. 

“No!” Pansy was furious.

“You didn’t even let me finish!” said Draco exasperatedly. 

“You don’t get to finish! You lost that right the minute you took my business to McGonagall! I know you that you’re not stupid enough to think that I would be okay with that!” the brunette witch yelled at him.

“I was trying to get control of the situation! It was only a matter of time before McGonagall found out about this or before Granger or Potter got to her first. I was trying to tip the scales in our favor!” He argued.

“And how well did that work out for you? No really Draco, what did McGonagall have to say about all of this?” Pansy retorted at him.

Draco was silent for a brief moment as she glared at him. He knew that what he was about to say was going to infuriate her. “She said that her hands are tied because there were no direct witnesses who could attest to this event even occurring, or Weasley being the one to attack you. She said that as of right now, there isn’t even a case unless you come forward and that someone attacked you, and name Weasley.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed and her face reddened. “Tell me that you didn’t come down here to tell me to come forward to McGonagall, Malfoy,” she said dangerously.

“I know this isn’t what you want to do. But it’s the ideal choice for you right now” He tried to reason with his ex-girlfriend.

“You are such a bloody hypocrite! You refused to report Potter when he attacked you with the same curse sixth year and now you expect me to name Weasley?” she countered. 

Draco ignored her accusation. “It’s our best shot at seeing Weasley get punished-”

Pansy burst out laughing. She shook her head at him. “Have you lost your mind? There’s no shot of Weasley being punished, even if I come forward.” 

“Yes, there is! If you come forward and name Weasley, they can force Veritaserum on him and check the most recent spells on his wand. But as long you stay in the dark, there is no proof that you were even attacked compared to a suicide attempt or that it was Weasley who was the one to do any of this.” Draco said persistently.

“Don’t you get it? They run this town; Potter, Granger, and Weasley. They are the “saviors” of our world, let alone this school. The Ministry is a joke right now. Bones barely has a job as Ministress, when the economy is in shambles and the ministry has yet to recover from the war.”

Draco hated to admit it, but Pansy wasn’t wrong. 

“No one is going to convict Weasley of anything. He’s a war hero. He’s a third of the Golden Trio. He is Potter’s best friend. His sister is Potter’s girlfriend. His mother is the closest thing Potter has to a mother. Even if he did convicted, Potter and Granger would jump to save him. No one is going to rule against what any of the Golden Trio have to say. You should know better than anyone, you wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for their testimonies, despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against you.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if Weasley’s a war hero or if he’s part of the Golden Trio. If there are facts, then the law will be on your side, Pansy.” He still tried to persuade her.

“It does matter. There won’t be any truth among the Wizengamot. All they’re going to care about is making sure that Weasley has his freedom. They’re untouchable, Draco; Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Nothing can bring them down. We can’t win this battle against them.”

He sat there in silence processing what she had just said to him. He wasn’t going to bother trying to convince her furthermore; he knew a hopeless case when he saw one. Honestly, she had had the better case between the two of them. 

He finally spoke again after what had felt like an eternity.

“You’re right. This isn’t a battle. This is a war and there will be no losing.” 

He stood up from the chair and looked at her. 

“There will be blood.”

And with that Draco left Pansy and the Hospital Wing. 

 

************************************************************************

Draco’s stomach grumbled as he was leaving the hospital wing. He checked his watch; it was noon now. He was curious to see the Great Hall. He had no doubt that news of last nights events had made way around all the houses, what with all the gossips at this school. Draco wanted to hear all the disparaging whispers and dirty looks the Slytherin table would be receiving during the lunch hour. He figured now was a good enough time to grab lunch and manage to catch Nott in the process. He made his way to the Great Hall.

It was almost as if there had been a tracing charm on him, because almost every single face stared at him when he entered the Great Hall. The Gryffindors he managed to glance at, were glaring at him. What a surprise, Gryffindors were nothing but predictable. The Ravenclaws, interestingly, were giving him looks of displeasure. Draco was careful to hide his state of perplexity. He was counting on the Ravenclaws to be the rational house in this horrendously wrong situation. The Hufflepuffs didn’t give him any expressions of remote hostility. Ernie Macmillan nodded his head at Draco. Hannah Abbot awkwardly smiled at him. 

Draco caught Nott sitting by himself, eating a sandwich. He slid on the bench next to Nott. 

“You look like trash,” commented Nott.

“You’re one to talk.” Draco grumbled back.

He grabbed a corned beef sandwich with some chips. 

“How was Pansy?” asked Nott.

“She’s not caving,” said Draco, putting a chip into his mouth.

“No surprise there,” muttered Nott. 

“What’s the situation here, so far? How was breakfast?” Draco asked.

“We don’t have to worry about Hufflepuff. They’re furious with McGonagall and Gryffindor right now. They’re picking us.”

That didn’t surprise Draco. It would explain the lack of hostility from the Hufflepuff table. 

“How do you know this exactly? The last I checked, you had no friends, let alone Hufflepuff friends” said Draco. 

Nott rolled his eyes. “Abbot.”

Ah, Hannah Abbot. Draco thought to himself.

“God bless, Abbot,” he chuckled out loud.

Nott smirked. “God bless, Abbot indeed.” 

Draco stopped laughing. “What about Ravenclaw?” He asked Nott, even though he already knew what the answer would be.

Nott stared ahead at the Ravenclaw table and shook his head. “They chose Gryffindor.” 

“Of course, those fucking airheads sided with Gryffindor,” said Draco scorned. 

Fuck Ravenclaw. He hated those fucking pretentious nerds who spent most of their time getting high out of their minds just to solve riddles. Of course they’d choose Gryffindor, what with the “lack of evidence” in their favor. Ravenclaws didn’t know of any loyalty or morality, only cold facts. 

“We don’t outnumber Gryffindor right now, if Ravenclaw joins them.” Nott interrupted his thoughts.

“Do they outnumber us, with Hufflepuff joining us?” said Draco staring ahead at the Gryffindor table. He was looking at Potter and Granger. It was the first time during the day he had seen either of them. Potter looked sullen. He was picking at his food and avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the Great Hall. Draco focused in on Granger. She looked miserably tired. The bags under her eyes were doing her no favors. Good, Granger didn’t deserve to look happy or well rested, he thought to himself.

“No, we’re even in numbers to them.” Nott interrupted his thoughts once more. 

Before Draco could respond to Nott’s comment, an argument had broken out in the middle of the Great Hall between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table. 

“Shut up! Pansy Parkinson was an absolute cunt, and she got what was coming to her!” Padma Patil yelled out. 

Daphne Greengrass reached to draw her wand but Nott instantly put his hand on her arm. “Not here, not now,” he whispered vehemently to her.

“So you’re telling me that attempted murder is completely fine if the victim is a cunt?!” screamed George Garcia, a sixth year Hufflepuff at her. “And don’t tell me to shut up, YOU shut up!” 

Every person in the Great Hall was watching this debacle occur. 

“We don’t even know if it was attempted murder. I wouldn’t put it past Parkinson to be faking this, just to get Ron expelled!” interjected Michael Corner. 

Draco clenched his knuckles that had now turned white.

“Yeah, it makes complete sense that she cut herself up and almost died while Ron can’t even be found in Hogwarts.” Hannah Abbot argued sarcastically. 

Draco tuned the rest of the uproar out. He didn’t care enough to hear the useless dialogue between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

Sides had been drawn and they were as clear a divide as the line that separated the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. 

This was going to be a civil war; Gryffindor and Ravenclaw on one side, Slytherin and Hufflepuff on the other. 

****************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Draco decided to go to the library after a long grueling day of classes. Flitwick’s first exam of the semester was always monstrous and he needed to be prepared for tomorrow. 

He was instantly irritated upon seeing how crowded the library was. The library was swarming with younger students who were trying to study together to get through their first week of exams. 

He couldn’t find a single empty table except for one directly behind a table that had seventh year Ravenclaws and Granger sitting at it.

Draco scowled at them as he made way to sit at the table. Terry Boot turned around to glare at him. Granger was sitting between Loony Lovegood and Anthony Goldstein. Goldstein gave him a dirty look. Lovegood was too spaced out of her damn mind to even bother giving Draco anything. Granger just glanced at him for a split five seconds and then went back to studying. 

It took every fiber of Draco’s being to not declare the first onslaught of the war by cursing them all in one sitting. But that wouldn’t get Slytherin anywhere closer to torturing Weasley; it would only get him stripped of his badge. 

He opened his charms textbook and began reviewing the chapter. Thank god he was well versed in non-verbal spells. He was guaranteed to pass this exam. 

He tried to ignore the chatter coming from the table ahead of him. Boot was helping Corner with a problem while Granger laughed as Goldstein whispered something in her ear. 

Draco ignored them and went back to studying. It was ridiculous that they needed to study together as a whole pack when they could just be studying alone; and somehow Ravenclaws were supposed to be the smart house. He rolled his eyes.

He found himself eavesdropping on their table again after 45 minutes had gone by. Lovegood was talking to Corner about mermaids and their breeding rituals. Hearing Lovegood speak was giving him a migraine. If he had been sorted into Ravenclaw, he would have honestly taken the Hogwarts Express back home, just to get away from that crazy witch. 

He looked at Granger again. She was laughing hysterically once more at something Goldstein was saying to her. Draco curled his lip in disgust. What the fuck could she possibly be laughing about? The probability of Goldstein saying something actually funny was less than the probability of the Weasleys seeing gold. 

As the hours went by, the library became increasingly less crowded. Draco debated switching to a different table but he figured that would come off as a sign of weakness. Fuck them all, they would have to move if they wanted to get away from him. Eventually the Ravenclaws and Granger left the library. Michael Corner shot him one last glare as they all headed out of the library. 

The library had almost cleared out at a quarter past nine, an hour later. The only people left in the library at this hour were Draco and a handful of sixth year Gryffindors, all hoping to pass exams tomorrow. Madam Pince was occasionally giving him filthy looks. The miserable old shrew just wanted to close up early, and the students were currently inhibiting her from doing so. 

Draco scowled at the old hag as he got up to pack his bag. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking that she had managed to drive him away with her stony glances, when he was actually leaving to make it to patrol on time. He made sure to give the table of remaining Gryffindors a dark look on his way out of the library. 

The hallways were unusually vacant at this time of night. Students normally swarmed the halls trying to make it to their common rooms before curfew at this time. The effects of the war were already visible in this first night. Not one Gryffindor or Slytherin was out by himself or in any a group. It was probably for the best, Draco thought to himself; making sure to keep his wand out, secured in his hand. 

All he saw were a group of what appeared to be Hufflepuff second years scurrying in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room. The second years looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear. 

Draco nodded his head at them. “Run along now before curfew.” He gave them a look of assurance. No Hufflepuff had a reason to fear him. He wasn’t stupid enough to alienate the one house that had, albeit surprisingly, sided with Slytherin. 

He walked down the staircase that was nearest to the Head’s common room. He was praying to see a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw on this floor, just so he could dock points. Sadly, this floor was vacant too. 

As he walked closer to the direction of the Head’s common room, he heard voices. They weren’t particularly loud voices, but the high ceilings of the hallway amplified the noise level. 

Draco sharply kept his wand ready for attack, just in case it was a couple of Gryffindors camping out of the common room, waiting to catch him off his guard…

He turned the corner just to see feel his stomach churn and his blood pressure rise slightly. 

Granger was leaning against the wall in front of their common room. Goldstein had her pinned against the wall; something that Granger didn’t seem to be complaining the slightest bit about. They were so absorbed in whatever “invigorating” little discussion they were having, that they didn’t even realize that they were being watched.

Draco walked, stomping his feet with force, to make his presence known to the two imbeciles. 

He heard Granger breathe sharply. Goldstein shifted his head to see Draco. He looked like he would have been happier eating a vomit flavored Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour beans, than being in front of Draco right now. He removed his hands from the wall, revealing Draco’s fellow Head Girl. 

Draco focused his attention on his fellow Head Girl. She stared at him for a split second before carefully moving her eyes away from him. Her robes were now open, she was wearing a red blouse with form fitting jeans. A corner portion of her curly hair was unusually undone and appeared frazzled. Her cheeks were profusely flushed and she was breathing heavily. He wondered if her body reaction was from Goldstein snogging her or from embarrassment of him catching them in their intimate moment. He wasn’t confident on it being the latter. 

So this was what she was doing the night after her ex-boyfriend had almost murdered his ex-girlfriend? Granger was fucking unbelievable.

“I didn’t think you could ever do worse than a weasel, and yet you managed to prove me wrong with this insect, Granger.” Draco sneered at her. 

Goldstein’s face flashed with anger. “Funny I don’t recall you calling me an insect when Ravenclaw mopped the floor in that Slytherin game two years ago.” He taunted him.

Draco would have given anything to do 10 rounds of the Cruciatus on this vermin. 

“Funny, I remember Cho Chang catching the snitch in that game and you being an irrelevant piece of shit.” 

“Yeah? Well let’s see what you call me when Slytherin chokes to Ravenclaw this year.” The piece of Ravenclaw trash goaded him.

“I can’t wait to see Ravenclaw crumble with you, being Captain. Chang’s not going to be there to catch the snitch for you. Tell me something else, Goldstein, did Ravenclaw side with Gryffindor because you’ll do anything to get into Granger’s pants?” asked Draco.

Granger finally directed her attention at him, and her eyes flashed with a blazing fury. 

“Can we help you with something, Malfoy?” She asked him forcefully. His previous remark had not gone over well with her. He didn’t care though; the remark was well deserved. 

“Patrol’s in five minutes. Be there, or else I’m leaving without you.” Draco said coldly to her.

He turned and began walking away from her towards the common room portrait, before she could respond. 

He couldn’t wait to destroy the Ravenclaw Quidditch team next month.


	9. Fire and Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To anyone who is a Game of Thrones fan, this chapter pays homage to the best TV show currently on. I hope you appreciate the Targaryen references as much as I did writing them. 
> 
> Dahlia and Maricar: you guys already know what the deal is. This chapter was written for the both of you. Thank you for being the bestest friends and bestest fans a girl can ask for. I hope I can write the debuts that you both deserve, Padfoot and Moony!

Hermione had always known that she had a dragon living inside of her. The first time she had learned of his existence was when she was came in second place to Alfred Barnes in the fifth standard spelling bee. She had learned over the years to keep the dragon hidden in her. She had accidentally let him out the night that Ron had snogged Lavender Brown in front of her, sixth year. 

Hermione had instantly regretted letting Harry and Ron see her dragon that night. She had kept him sealed tight with ice from that night onwards. She always fought to keep him concealed. Tonight, Hermione could tell that she would have to fight extra hard to keep him covert.

To say that Hermione was fuming would have been the understatement of the century. No, she wasn't just simply fuming. Her veins were aching from the increasing temperature of the blood that they were carrying. The blood, which felt as if someone had cursed it with Fiendfyre. That someone, in particular being, Draco Malfoy. 

The absolute nerve of that prat. Hermione had been doing everything in power to make their living arrangement bearable, for both of their sakes. She had been attempting to be a professional and rise above all of the chaos that ensued, the exact thing that was expected of a Head Girl. Malfoy had been doing the exact opposite, what with him leading the revolt of the Slytherins.

Who the fuck did he think he was to disrespect her in front of Anthony? Who she chose to see was none of his business. If the situation were reversed, and she had brought up all of the Slytherin girls that he had bedded, he would have gifted her a hex at best.

Hermione angrily threw her books on her bed and got ready for patrol. Oh, she had several choice words that she wanted to share with that foul git.

But she knew that she couldn't. She needed to be ice. Screaming at Malfoy would get her no where except give her a headache. Ice was impenetrable. Ice was cold. Ice didn't show any weakness. 

She took a deep breath to maximize her chill. She headed out of the common room, to meet the asshat.

Malfoy had his arms crossed and he was huffing impatiently. His cool eyes looked her up and down and snapped. “Take your time, why don’t you?” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you apologize to me.” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes “That’s fine by me,” he said coldly. He started walking away from her. 

He was such a tosser. Hermione started jogging to catch up to him. “That comment was completely uncalled for Malfoy,” she said, flaring up. 

The Head Boy looked completely unaffected by her remark, much to Hermione’s indignation. It was as if Malfoy was in a perpetual state of broodiness and nothing could ever break him. “From where I was standing, that comment was well earned,” he said gruffly. 

"I will not let you make sexist misogynistic comments about me!" Hermione exclaimed with exasperation. 

Malfoy still hadn’t turned his head to look at her’s. "What part of my comment was sexist or misogynistic…" he muttered, still staring ahead.

He was testing her patience. Her fingers were itching to touch her wand. Ice, Hermione, Ice, Hermione, she repeated to herself internally. 

"It was a blatant misrepresentation!" she refuted.

Malfoy’s face contorted. Finally, he was having a reaction. He turned his head to glare at her. "Misrepresentation? Please Granger. That's insulting to my intelligence and to your's as well. Goldstein's obviously trying to screw you. A blind man can see that. God knows what you see in that wanker. How do you look at yourself in the mirror?" 

"We were studying. I understand that Goyle can't read, let alone study, but my friends can actually study,” said Hermione condescendingly.

Malfoy curled his lip in disgust. "If that's your definition of studying, then no wonder you love studying all the time," he said coldly. 

"Maybe if you actually had quality study partners, you would appreciate it as much I do," retorted Hermione brazenly. 

The Slytherin raised his eyebrows, his lip still curled. It was as if his face was saying “so that’s how it’s going to be then?” Hermione made damn well sure that her’s could only be read as “that’s exactly how it’s going to be.” 

Their cold stare war was quickly interrupted by commotion coming from the corridor near by. Hermione flashed Malfoy a concerned look and he returned her a wary look. 

Malfoy pushed the corridor door open, his wand in his hand ready for combat. His arm was preemptively outstretched, as if warning her to not go ahead until he had scoped out the situation. 

Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnigan were in a heated argument with a George Garcia, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team’s captain, and Dahlia Moussa, a fifth year Slytherin. Hermione recognized them from the most recent copy of Witch Weekly; Garcia and Moussa were currently Witch Weekly’s reigning hottest new couple at Hogwarts. 

“Move out of the way, little girl. This is the last time I’m going to warn you,” said Parvati Patil

“We’re not fucking moving, we were here first! You guys can fucking leave!” snarled Moussa. Her eyes flashed with cold icy fury. 

Garcia put his hand on his girlfriend’s arm. “Babe, it’s fine. It isn’t worth instigating with these two, they’re beneath us.” 

Moussa moved her arm away. “No, fuck that! I’m going to instigate. I want to see what this fucking bitch thinks she’s going to do.” 

The fifth year had hit Parvati’s nerve. “Stupefy!” Parvati exclaimed.

But Moussa was too fast for Parvati. She instantly dodged Parvati’s curse with catlike reflexes. “Incendio! Incendio!” she aimed a charm at Parvati’s head and another at Seamus’ head. Both of their heads set on fire.

“Ahhhhh!!!!” shrieked Parvati, her hair was rapidly burning off. Seamus was trying to reach for his wand while fanning his head. 

“Here’s some fucking ice with that,” sneered Moussa. “Glacius!” The fires were immediately extinguished and both the top of Parvati’s and Seamus’ heads turned to ice.

Hermione had watched enough, it was time to intervene. “Expelliarmus!” Everyone’s wands came flying into her hand.

“What did I just walk in? How dare all of you think that this is acceptable? Being outside after curfew? Attacking other students? Shame on all of you!” berated Hermione.

She shook her head at all of them. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, each.” 

Seamus’s face was in pure shock. “Have you lost your bloody mind?” He bellowed. “FIFTY POINTS?!” screeched Parvati, hysterically.

Hermione put her hand up to silence them. “I warned all of you that I wouldn’t spare any of you, if I saw you attack any students. I saw you strike first, Parvati. Don’t even bother.”

Moussa smirked at Parvati’s obvious displeasure. Hermione turned her focus towards her. “Forty points from Slytherin.” Moussa’s smiled disappeared as her face turned to stone. 

“Forty points, Granger that’s ridiculous,” interjected Malfoy.  
“Give me one good reason for why I shouldn’t make it fifty points from Slytherin.” countered Hermione. 

Malfoy was silent. “That’s what I thought,” said Hermione flatly. 

“If I ever catch any of you in something like this again, it’ll be double the points from your house.”

Hermione handed the wands back to their rightful owners and started to walk away. She paused as she stood next to Malfoy, but she didn’t look at him. “That’s how I look at myself in the mirror,” she said. She walked away from all of them. 

****************************************************************************************************************************

 

They returned to the common room. They hadn’t spoken to each other for the remainder of their patrol. Hermione walked into the room. She watched Malfoy walk straight to his clear liquid bottle at the stand and pour himself a glass. She shook her head. Leave it to him get liquored up, on a school night especially. 

She needed a shower desperately. Today had been unusually hot and she still smelled like Anthony…

Hermione walked into the shower and turned the temperature to its maximum heat level. She stood there in scorching heat with conditioner in her hair. This would be good for her hair. It had gotten too frizzy today from the humidity. 

She came out of the bathroom and walked past Malfoy's room and stopped in her tracks. The Head Boy was holding her beloved Crookshanks and scowling. 

"Bloody cat leaving hair all over my bed," he muttered.

"WHAT IN THE DAMN HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING" screamed Hermione. “Get your hands off of my cat!"

"Calm your tits, Granger. I wasn't doing anything to your cat,” said Malfoy, dryly. 

"I swear to god, Malfoy. If you ever so much as harm a hair on Crookshanks’ head, I will kill you myself," she said fiercely.

"This conversation is already too long.” Malfoy slammed the door in her face. 

Hermione huffed at the door. He was incorrigible. She had half a mind to curse the door off and do to his face, what she would have done to the door. 

“Ice, Hermione. You need to be ice right now,” she willed herself. She couldn’t afford to let the dragon out and have him burn the door down.

Crookshanks stirred and her anger diminished significantly.

"Don't go to his room anymore. He doesn't know how to appreciate how cute you are, and you are very cute. Yes you are, yes you are." She blew kisses on Crookshanks, who meowed, and carried him to her bedroom. 

****************************************************************************************************************************

 

Hermione got dressed and gathered her Charms books. Tonight would be her final study session before the exam and she needed it to be effective. 

She entered the common room and saw that Malfoy was already seated at their table studying for the exam with his Charms books. That was just bloody fantastic, Hermione thought bitterly. 

She debated walking back to her room and avoiding this very probably argument, but she needed to study and Malfoy would have to get over his shit. 

It would be fine; she just needed to be ice. Ice would get her through the night and help her tolerate him for a couple of hours. 

She started walking towards the table.

His cold grey eyes slowly moved to look at her, as she approached his table.

“What do you think you’re doing exactly,” said Malfoy icily. 

“Moving your books, to make room for mine,” Hermione replied coolly, stating the obvious. She pushed his The Art of Divination book ahead in his direction.

The book immediately shot back to the original position. Hermione frowned; that was odd. She looked at Malfoy but the blond but he was looking at his notebook, scribbling away. 

She pushed the book away again. It shot back to its original position once more. She decided to try to move his transfiguration textbook instead, but it was the same result. 

Malfoy was obviously using a nonverbal spell to keep his books in place. 

“This is my table just as much as it’s your’s, Malfoy,” she said irritatedly. 

The Head Boy snorted derisively. “No, it’s not,” he said without looking up at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She tried to push the divination book once more, but the book wouldn’t budge. 

“Malfoy!,” she yelled. All of her patience had diminished. 

The Slytherin slammed his book shut. 

“You don’t get to sit here. Hell, you don’t even belong in here. You lost your right, the second you became unworthy of that badge,” he spat angrily at her. 

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was nothing that she could possibly say to him, that wouldn’t end with the two of them having another argument. She was exhausted and the last thing that she needed was another row between the two of them.

She sighed and turned away from the table and began walking towards her room. 

Hermione had barely made it past the couch when she heard a mutter, “that’s what I thought, bitch.” 

The ice shattered. 

She threw her book onto the couch and turned around to face the Slytherin. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she glowered at the arrogant toerag in front of her. 

The remnants of frostiness within her had evaporated by the surge of volcanic lava building within her chest. Ice hadn’t been enough to keep the dragon placated. Malfoy had cracked the ice and he would have to pay. The dragon wanted fire and blood. 

The bastard looked up at her in pure displeasure, as if she was inconveniencing him greatly. This only infuriated Hermione more.

“How fucking dare you, you ungrateful hypocrite! I’ve been holding my tongue because I figured that you would get over yourself and stop being a prat, but I’ve had enough. You want to sit there and act like you’re some wronged victim, plotting your vengeance, and I’ve wronged you and your house somehow? You want to act like you can’t even sit with me?

How fucking dare you act like I’m beneath you! Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Let me remind you, Malfoy, I’m the reason you’re even sitting on that chair right now and not rotting in a cell in Azkaban!

Do you think you’re better than Harry, Ron, and me? What makes you better than us? You want to act like a white knight, but when the hell have you ever been noble or righteous ever in your life?! 

When were you noble in Malfoy Manor?! She screamed. 

Malfoy’s already pale face turned sheet white at the mention of Malfoy Manor.

The dragon roared.

Hermione sneered.

“WHERE WAS YOUR NOBILITY WHEN I WAS GIVEN THIS MARK?!” She yanked the sleeve of her shirt upwards and flashed her bare arm at him. 

The Slytherin looked as green as his house color as his eyes grazed along the word “M u d b l o o d.”

“Who are you to shame me on not naming when Ron, when you couldn’t even not name us to Bellatrix? You lied and said that you couldn’t recognize us, but you knew! You knew it was us the whole time, and you were a coward!”

“What Bellatrix Lestrange did to me was worse than what Ron did to Pansy Parkinson, but where was your sense of self-righteousness at that point in time? Or did it not matter to you to speak up because it was the blood of a mudblood being spilled?

“Was my blood being spilled not worth the same reaction that you’re having from a pureblood’s blood being spilled?!” 

Flames, the dragon wanted him to die in his flames.

“Unlike you, I’m not being an emotional little bitch about all of this. I don’t care if you think that my blood is worthless. I don’t care about you doing nothing to help us in Malfoy Manor. I don’t care enough to be involved in this ridiculous war that you’ve got going on.”

“You want to act like a martyr? You want to act like Slytherin house has earned it’s right to seek revenge? You’re a cunning bastard, Malfoy, I’ll give you that. I know you don’t give a shit about Pansy Parkinson. You don’t care about what happened to her. You’ve been itching to get the power that was stripped away from you back. You saw this as your opportunity and you appealed to the blood hungry Slytherins to wage this war.”

“I don’t give a shit about this war. Gryffindor is wrong in this war. Harry is wrong in this war. Ron is wrong in this war. There, I’ve fucking said it.”

“But don’t you dare for a single minute, pretend like you’re not wrong as well. Your hands are just as dirty as all of ours’. You are no better than any of us. If you’re going to sit on your throne and be a king, don’t forget who put you there.”

The dragon had run out of flames. Hermione’s blood was no longer burning her veins. The black frost was coming back now. She had said her piece. She grabbed her books and left the common room and Malfoy. 

 

***********************************************************************

 

Hermione walked into the Great Hall in the morning and found herself getting many glares from the Gryffindor table. She sat down next to Ginny. Parvati Patil, who was wearing a head scarf to hide the carcass that was her hair, instantly got up and left the table dramatically. Dean and Seamus scowled at her.

"What's wrong with everyone?” She whispered to Ginny.

Ginny spread butter on her toast and made a face. "News of what you did last night made way," she said nonchalantly. 

"And?" 

She picked at her eggs. "And, people are being drama queens but they’ll all get over it eventually…Let's just say that you might want to stay away from the common room for a bit."

Hermione nodded.

Ginny stared at her, as if she had something that she desperately needed to say. 

“What?” asked Hermione.

"Charlie wrote me. He found Ron," said Ginny, carefully.

"You know that I don't want to hear about this, Ginny," Hermione stopped her before she could continue.

“I know, but it’s Ron. No matter what happened, he’s still Ron, that doesn’t change.” 

Hermione was infuriated. “It does, Ginny. It does change. It doesn’t matter if “he’s still Ron.” We’re in this mess with Slytherin because of his actions. The entire school is divided because of his actions. Ron caused this mayhem and then just took off without any thought or responsibility for his actions.; and we’re all stuck here paying the price.” 

Ginny was silent. Unlike Harry, she knew a hopeless cause when she saw one. 

Hermione decided to change the subject. “I got into an argument with Malfoy last night.”

Ginny’s eyes gleamed. “There was drama?! Tell me about it!”

Hermione nodded her head and smiled. “I told him to get off his high horse and thank me for getting him out of Azkaban.”

“Shut up! You didn’t. That’s crazy!” said Ginny with excitement.

“I did,” Hermione grinned.

Their conversation was interrupted by a taunt coming from the Slytherin table.

“Hey Weasley, rumor has it that your rat brother comes back to Hogwarts soon. Is it true?” Blaise Zabini yelled from across the hall.

Ginny was still facing Hermione. Her cheeks turned pink from Zabini’s jeer. Her breathing was getting heavier.

“Ignore him, this is exactly what he wants from you. He wants to see you lose control,” advised Hermione. 

“Malfoy and I are betting on who can castrate the rat first,” yelled out Zabini.

His goading had served its purpose. Ginny Weasley had lost her chill; her face now matched her flaming red hair. 

“Oi Zabini!” “Does it ever get exhausting being permanently glued to Malfoy’s asshole?” She shouted across the Great Hall.

The look on Professor Sprout’s face was priceless. “Miss Weasley! Language!,” she gasped.

“I’m sorry Weasley, is that a mustache or a strap of Potter’s ass hairs on your lips?” Zabini yelled back. 

Professor Sprout was minutes away from going into cardiac arrest. 

Ginny pulled her wand out and Zabini quickly did the same. Hermione quickly pushed her out of the Great Hall. 

“Zabini’s not worth the detentions. He’s trash and you know it.”

Ginny shook her head furiously. “I’m going to fucking kill him. I need to go fly around for a bit and calm down before classes start.” 

Hermione watched her hotheaded friend walk away. Things were not looking good. There was only so long that the Gryffindors would be willing to hold out until they unleashed their onslaught. Ginny Weasley was just one of the many ticking time bombs. 

****************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione was leaving Flitwick's exam, feeling as if she had left part of her soul in that exam. It was as horrendous as everyone had rumored it to be. 

She found Anthony waiting outside for her. Apparently he had finished the exam before her. 

He grinned when he saw her. “Hey, I missed you,” he said, pulling her into a hug.

Hermione smiled but winced internally. How could he possibly miss her already? He had seen her less than 12 hours ago. 

“How was the exam?” Anthony asked her.

“It definitely wasn’t my best exam. Hopefully I got the answers right.” Hermione responded wearily.

“You shouldn’t worry about it too much. You’re Flitwick’s favorite student,” said Anthony lightly.

“Just because I’m his favorite student, doesn’t mean that he’s going to grade my exam any differently or favor me,” said Hermione, irritatedly. 

Anthony looked confused. “I know, that’s not what I was saying. Sorry it came off the wrong way.” 

Hermione nodded her head glumly.  
“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me for a bit tonight. It doesn’t have to be for too long,” Anthony inquired optimistically.

"I'm just not feeling up to it tonight," responded Hermione.

Anthony’s face hardened. "Is this because of what that snake said last night? I swear, Malfoy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not just trying to shag you, Hermione.”

Hermione blushed profusely from the stares that she got from some bystanders who were eavesdropping in the conversation.

"No I swear it has nothing to do with him, I’m just exhausted. I need a day to sleep in. I promise we can reschedule,” she pacified him.

He nodded grimly. “All right, I’ll take your word for it. I’m going to go meet Michael, do you want to come with?”

“I’m good. I think I’ll find Harry, I haven’t seen him all day.” 

“Have fun.” 

Hermione started walking to Harry’s Herbology class. 

Harry finally came out of the classroom a good fifteen minutes later.

“How was your exam?” Hermione asked him.

Harry shook his head with displeasure. “I definitely failed it. I don’t know how I’m going to pass that class without you being in it, this year.” 

“You do know that you’re the Chosen One, right?” quipped Hermione. 

Harry smirked at her. “That was a very Ron-esque comment of you, Hermione. He would be proud.”

Hermione instantly lost her humor when Ron’s name was mentioned. “Yeah, well someone’s got to blow your head up once in a while,” she muttered.

“I take it that Ginny’s told you about Charlie finding Ron?” said Harry.

“She has,” said Hermione curtly. 

“You know, just as well as I do, that Ron needs us more than ever now, Hermione. He’s spiraling out of control. We need to be united throughout all of this.” Harry cautioned.  
“No! Harry, this is ridiculous! This has gotten this far because you all babied him for so long. Do you think all of us aren’t suffering? We all deal with our suffering like adults. I can’t sleep at night! I’m constantly haunted by Bellatrix Lestrange and by what happened at Malfoy Manor. I live with a Malfoy! You constantly hide how you’re doing to be sensitive to Ron and Ginny while they’re dealing with Fred. Do you think that I don’t know that you’re haunted by Remus’ and Tonks’ deaths? You fucking died, Harry; you sacrificed yourself for all of us. You may hide them well, but you have more scars than the one that you carry on your forehead.”

Harry didn’t have words.

Graham Montague, a brawlic seventh year Slytherin left the Herbology classroom and sneered when he saw Harry and Hermione. 

“Well if it isn’t the precious Golden Trio, or should I say prematurely say duo now, because I’m going to murder Weasley myself when he gets back,” the muscular giant   
jibed. 

Hermione instinctively grabbed Harry from lunging forward. “Don’t. Don’t lose our honor in a fist brawl with Montague.”

Montague’s face turned scarlet and was filled with contempt when he looked at Hermione.

He started walking away from the classroom, past Harry and Hermione.

And suddenly Hermione felt an insurmountable amount of pain in her arm. It felt as if someone had thrown her off of Gryffindor Tower and she had landed on her arm. 

Montague had slammed into her shoulder. And her books had gone flying. All of her papers were in the air. 

"Watch where you're going, you mudblood bitch,” the monster growled at her. 

Her arm was searing, it was impossible for her to stand up from the pain. Montague was easily three times her size. 

Harry lunged forward with his wand to curse Montague but someone had already gotten there first.

Draco Malfoy had sent Montague flying into the wall and held him a locked position a couple of inches off the ground. 

Malfoy had his arm tight across Montague’s neck and his wand was tight on the giant’s neck.

"Never let me hear you call Hermione Granger a mudblood again," snarled Malfoy.

"What the fuck are you doing right now?! I'm doing this for us," yelled Montague, in pure shock,

Malfoy growled. "You don’t hit a woman for us. You don’t hit a woman, ever.”

Montague laughed obnoxiously. “Granger’s not a woman. She’s a mudblood filth.”

There was a loud crack heard across the hall. Malfoy had punched Montague in the nose. Montague’s nose was streaming a river of gushing blood.

Malfoy was stabbing his wand under Montague’s jaw forcefully. "You know exactly who I am. You know exactly what I’ve done. You know exactly what I'm capable of. Call her that again, and me cutting your tongue off will be the least painful thing among the things that I’ll be doing to you. Are you hearing me loud and clear, Montague, or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

Montague nodded his head.

Malfoy sneered at him one last time and then removed his arm and the spell that had sent Montague flying into the air.

Montague came flying down to the ground. He held his nose to cover the blood that was flowing freely.

Malfoy started walking quickly away from the hallway, although he made sure to glare at Harry and Hermione on his way out.

Harry turned to look at Hermione in complete astonishment. “What the hell was that?!” the raven haired boy exclaimed.

Hermione stared ahead at the back frame of the tall silver haired boy. “I have no idea…,” she responded truthfully. 

****************************************************************************************************************************

After spending the rest of the day with Harry, Ginny, and Neville, Hermione decided to depart back to her chambers. She needed to sleep off the pain from her arm. If the pain hadn’t subsided by tomorrow, she would have to pay Madam Pomfrey a visit. 

She stood outside the common room portrait, trying to prepare whatever version of Malfoy could be possibly be sitting in the room. 

The side that Hermione had seen of him today was terrifying. She had always known that he could be ruthless and violent, when he needed to be. But she had never seen him in action. The incident had shown her exactly how volatile the Head Boy could be.   
She entered the common room with her wand in hand, she was ready to cast a shield charm at any point. 

Malfoy was sitting at the table; a glass of gin was next to him as he did Arithmancy problems. He didn’t look up to acknowledge her presence, but Hermione knew that he knew that she was in the room. 

But then something caught her eye and completely shifted her focus from Malfoy. All of his books were on a side of the table next to him. The side of the table across from him was vacant. It wasn’t much. It was simple and subtle.

An invitation.


	10. A Man Without Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We’re finally at Chapter Ten guys! Chapter Ten marks my commitment to this story; till death do us part (my saltmate will appreciate this greatly). I cannot believe that it’s been ten chapters already. 
> 
> In response to some reviews:
> 
> To Meranna- Thank you! I know that Dramione’s union is a little slow but I promise that I have a plan for them and when they get together, it will be glorious!
> 
> To the Twenty-fifth Doctor- Harry and Narcissa will definitely not be a pairing. I’m a big Harry and Ginny shipper and those two will stay together for the whole story. Narcissa will be a very important character in this story though, that’s why she’s in the characters category.
> 
> I apologize in advance for how dark this chapter is. I’ve been more broody and moody than usual, so just bear with me.
> 
> Moony, I hope you love your debut! Padfoot and Moony, this chapter was for you both!

Malfoy Manor had always been his favorite place in the planet since birth. Draco had entered the world in this manor. His childhood had been spent in this manor. His laughter had rang the in the hallways like symphonies in this manor. There had never been a doubt in Draco’s mind that he wanted to spend the rest of his life here, and eventually die here. 

But it was all set to change today. 

Draco sought refuge in the manor’s library, counting the moments. His hands were clammy. His face had broken out in a cold sweat. He had known that this moment was coming for weeks. He had just been praying to the old gods for a miracle to save him from this nightmare. 

Draco should have known then that he was absolutely screwed. The gods couldn’t save him from a man who had proclaimed himself god. 

The library door opened.

His mother walked into the room.

“Draco,” she whispered.

“Mother…”

“Come, Draco. It’s time.” Narcissa Malfoy held her hand out, for him to come and join her in the drawing room. As if, she was inviting him along for warm milk and biscuits like the countless times she had when he was younger.  
“Mother, please… isn’t there any other way?” Draco could hear the childlike undertones in his voice, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if in that moment he didn’t sound like a man. He didn’t care if he sounded like the broken fifteen-year-old boy that he was.

Narcissa walked over to her only child. She cupped his face in her arms and pressed her lips on his forehead. 

“My sweet boy, I never wanted this for you. I’ll never forgive Lucius for this, but your father is right, Draco. This is the safest we can keep ourselves. Doing this, is the best way to keep our family safe.” She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes.

“I don’t want to this…I’m not ready,” Draco heard himself say.

“Come darling, you must, for our family. Our family above everything.” Narcissa took her son’s hand and escorted him out of the library.

They entered the drawing room. 

Lucius’s tired, gaunt face had a flicker of relief when he saw Draco walk into the drawing room.

“Draco, oh Draco, thank god,” he whispered and momentarily outstretched his hand, before retreating his hand. 

Draco looked around the room. His disturbed aunt was beyond her wits in pleasure.

“That’s my nephew! Draco, you should be so lucky, the youngest of all of us to ever receive the mask. The honor…”

Macnair grinned.

Rodolphus Lestrange raised his glass. “To my nephew, Draco!” 

“Aye, aye!” said Yaxley. 

“To Draco!” The noisy room filled with Death Eaters drank to him.

Draco wanted to hurl his insides out.

The cheering came to a halt as serpent hissed its way into the drawing room. The serpent slid its way on the black floor slowly. 

It’s master followed it into the room moments later. 

“My lord.” The room resonated with allegiance as heads were bowing to the tall, ghostly immortal who had made his presence known in the room.   
Draco felt his blood leave his body.

“My lord, shall we begin?” his aunt whispered with fervor to her beloved master.

“Yes, Bella. I believe that Draco has waited long enough for this moment. Draco, come to me.” The master hissed.

Bellatrix’s face lit up with glee.

Draco felt his feet freeze to the ground. He couldn’t move. 

He looked at Lucius’s pallid face. “Father…” he whispered so quietly that almost no one could have heard him.

Lucius couldn’t hide his worry. “Draco… please. Don’t keep our lord waiting.” 

“Bellatrix, what’s taking the boy so long? Surely, he hasn’t had a change in decision,” the Dark Lord said grotesquely.

“Of course not, my lord. Draco just has a little case of stage fright, don’t you Draco?” Bellatrix’s eyes burned into Draco’s skull. 

“Draco, come.” Lucius Malfoy grabbed his son’s hand and brought it to the demi-god. “My lord, we are so honored… so truly honored.” 

“Hopefully your son won’t show the same level of incompetence as you have, Lucius,” said the scaly man, ruthlessly.

“Of course, my lord. Draco is so smart. He won’t fail to please you, my lord,” Lucius sang in praises.

“Your boy can speak for himself, can’t he Lucius?” The Dark Lord’s voice was as frozen as Draco’s body was.

Draco opened his mouth and gasped for air. “Yes… my lord,” he said weakly.

“Do you understand what this mark stands for?”

Draco looked into the red eyes of the self-proclaimed god. 

“Yes… my lord,” Draco said, the fear bursting out in his words. 

The red eyes didn’t blink. “Do you declare yourself a loyal servant of mine? Do you swear your hand, your wand, and your life to myself forever?”

 

Draco’s mouth was as dry as sand paper. “I…I swear it, my lord.”

A grin. Draco saw decaying, brownish yellow teeth.

“Give me your left arm, Draco Malfoy.” 

A command.

Draco looked at his mother’s face one last time. Narcissa nodded solemnly at her son.

He rolled up his sleeve. His arm was shaking uncontrollably.

A frigid, lifeless hand touched his arm. Dirty dark fingers pierced their way into his pale arm. He was sure that this was what death’s touch was like.

A skull began to carve its way into his arm, a snake following it.

And suddenly there was a burning sensation. Burning beyond his wildest imagination. The smolder spread instantaneously from his arm, to his blood, and circulated throughout his entire body. 

He couldn’t see the room anymore. All he saw were white spots. 

He heard a brouhaha happening. 

“That’s my nephew! My darling nephew!” a woman cackled.

“To Draco!” he heard voices.

And the room went black. 

 

Draco woke up panting. Water, he needed water.   
************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Thursdays always were his favorite day. The only class that he had on thursdays was Potions, which always gave him the time to hang around in the dungeons. 

They were studying Euphoria Elixirs today. It wouldn’t have surprised Draco if Slughorn probably took a shot of one for breakfast on a daily basis. 

The fat old man took his sweet time coming into class, over ten minutes late. Not that it mattered; it just meant that they would have to suffer for a less amount of time. 

“Sorry, everyone! It appears that I had misplaced my ingredients for today’s lecture. But no need to worry yourselves, I was able to retrieve everything just fine!” Slughorn wheezed.

Draco rolled his eyes. God, he missed the days of when Professor Snape taught Potions. 

“I hope that you’ve all done your reading for today’s class. This lecture will be quite the challenge to your skills,” Slughorn boomed. “Now, who can tell us what Euphoria Elixirs are?”

Granger’s hand shot up instantly. 

“Ah, Ms. Granger, do tell us!” Slughorn beamed.

“Euphoria Elixirs are potions that cause an extreme amount, if not an irrational sense, of happiness to whomever drinks them, sir.”

“Correct, my dear! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“Can anyone tell me what unique ingredient Euphoria Elixirs have, that no other potion contains?”

Granger’s hand shot up again. 

“Yes, dear?”

“Sopophorous beans, sir,” she answered proudly. 

“Correct again, Ms. Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“Now, now, before we begin brewing our potions today, can anyone tell me a side effect of Euphoria Elixirs?”

Draco didn’t see the point in Slughorn asking when Granger would once again be the only person to answer. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger?”

“A common side effect is excessive singing and nose tweaking, sir.”

“Excellent, my dear, just excellent! Twenty points to Gryffindor!” Slughorn could barely contain himself. Granger may as well have bought him a new fucking house.

Granger beamed.

“Today, you will all be brewing these potions yourselves. The prize of my lesson has yet to be determined, however, the winners shall shortly be notified of it by me. I shall be dividing you all into pairs. Let’s see:

“Nott and Patil”

Nott’s pallid face turned a shade of green at the thought of having to work with Parvati Patil.

“Corner and Greengrass”   
Daphne looked like Corner had personally barfed in her backpack; she looked horrified.

“Finnigan and Davis” 

“Zabini and Finch-Fletchley”

“Malfoy and Granger”

Draco felt his blood turn cold. Out of all the fucking students in this class, Slughorn had to pair him up with the one person who he wanted to avoid working with. He looked across the room to see the facial expression that Granger was giving him; the feeling was mutual on her part.

Slughorn continued his list while Draco mentally prepared himself for the upcoming 40 minutes that he would have to spend with Granger. Slughorn finally finished his list. 

“And now how will you will my fabulous prize? Turn to page 278 of your textbooks, and begin! Off you go!” 

Granger grabbed the cauldron and set in front of her. “Malfoy can you turn to page 278,” she ordered.

Leave it to her to boss him around already.

Malfoy turned to the page. He didn’t have time to argue with her, he wanted whatever stupid prize Slughorn was planning on handing out. 

Granger began boiling the water in their cauldron. 

“Okay Granger, get me some peppermint,” he commanded her.

She bent downwards and searched around for the mint leaves. He caught Zabini’s eyes across the room, smirk at him in the suggestive position that Granger was at. Draco immediately looked away.

“Found them! Okay, what does the book say to do?” She jumped back upwards.

“Throw it in and keep stirring until it turns red,” he said.

She took her long fingers and continued stirring the cauldron. “Okay, what’s next?”

“The book says to add shrivelfig. I’ll look for it, since you already looked for the peppermint.” Draco started moving downwards. 

“Are you sure?” asked Granger, puzzled.

“It’s hardly a big sacrifice, Granger,” Draco drawled, coming back upwards with the shrivelfig. He threw the fig into the cauldron and stirred until the liquid turned turquoise.

“Malfoy, it’s not turning purple!” Granger said with worry.

Draco frowned. She was right, for some reason, after all of the steps they had done correctly, they were at a crossroads. The potion wasn’t turning purple as the book promised it would.

“Oh god, we’re going to lose. We can’t win this if we’re stuck in the middle and no where near the finishing touches of the potion,” exclaimed Granger, hysterically.

“Calm down, Granger. We’re way ahead of everyone else. We’re going to win this,” he tried to reassure the Head Girl as he kept retracing every step of the potion, mentally.

His reassurance did nothing to appease her anxiety. “How are we going to win if we can’t even turn the potion purple before it turns yellow?” she said despondently. 

Malfoy turned away from the cauldron to look at her. “Because we are the Heads of this school for a reason. When combined, we’re a force to be reckoned with. I have no doubt in my mind, that not one other team in this room can beat us.” 

Granger’s eyes widened and her breathing became normalized. “You’re right, we’ll figure this out. We’re winning this.”

And sure enough they did. After some tweaks, the potion finally turned yellow. Slughorn instantly declared them the winners. Granger turned to grin at him and for once, Draco didn’t have anything to say. Relief, he felt pure relief that no one had showed them up.

But his relief wouldn’t last long. 

************************************************************************************************************************************************

He had left the Potions classroom, waiting for Nott and Zabini outside, when his eyes found a surprise. 

Maricar Vazquez, a fifth year Gryffindor was in the dungeons. The fifth years didn’t have class today, it didn’t make sense for a Gryffindor to be in the dungeons for no apparent reason.

But she was walking up to him now. Whatever her reason for being in the dungeon was, he was about to find out. 

“Malfoy.” She greeted him.

“Vazquez. To what do I owe the pleasure,” he said dryly.

The long haired Gryffindor handed him a scroll. “Professor Weasley wants to see you in his office.” 

Draco read the scroll and burrowed his brows. “Did he tell you why?”

“No clue, just that he asked for you to stop by in a couple of minutes.”

“Well, well, well what do we have here?”

Their conversation was interrupted by Zabini’s and Nott’s arrival.  
Vazquez’s face immediately expressed displeasure from the sight of Blaise.

Zabini looked like it was Christmas morning. “Vazquez, you come all the way to the dungeons to see my boy, Malfoy, here, but you can’t even say hi to me? I’m hurt,” he mocked.

“Always good to see you, Zabini” said Vazquez through gritted teeth. 

“I know,” Blaise smirked. Since it’s so good to see me, how about you see me alone at Hogsmeade this weekend?” 

“Smooth, Blaise,” sniggered Nott.

“Shut up, Nott.” Blaise said, without taking his eyes off of Vazquez.

She rolled her eyes, not in amusement. “In your dreams, Zabini. I’m way out of your league.” 

Blaise sucked his cheeks in and blew air out. “Baby, please, I’m consistently in Witch Weekly’s top ten Hogwarts’ bachelors of the month. You could do a lot worse than me.”

“Don’t call me your baby, or I’ll hex your tongue out.” Vazquez’s cheeks were inflamed and her lip was twitching.

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” goaded Zabini. 

Her eyes widened. “It’s probably the only time anyone talks dirty to you,” she spat with disgust. 

“You wound me, Vazquez” said Zabini sarcastically. “But you’re going to cave someday.”

“You couldn’t land me in a hundred years,” she scowled.

Blaise’s eyes lit up. “So you agree that there’s still a chance though?” 

Vazquez shook her head. “Malfoy, see to it that you stop by.” 

Draco nodded at her. Vazquez shot Zabini a death glare before she walked away.

“Why do you always go after the ones who hate you?” asked Nott.

“The chase, Nott. I’m all about the chase,” smirked Zabini. 

 

************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

It was absolute bollocks that a Weasley could be made professor at this school. Draco thought sourly to himself as he was standing outside of the Defense Against The Dark Art’s office. 

What the fuck did Weasley want from him? He had better things to do than waste his time with the Professor.

He reluctantly knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” the professor’s voice rang. 

Draco pushed the door open forcefully. Weasley looked up from whatever was writing something, covered it quickly, and put his quill down. 

“Malfoy, come in. Sit down,” he ordered.

Draco sat down at the chair without inclination, making himself comfortable. “You wanted to see me… Professor,” he said coldly.

Weasley had a grim expression on his face. “Yes, I had an urgent matter that I wanted to discuss with you.” 

“Don’t let me stop you,” Draco said unenthusiastically.

Weasley wasn’t amused. 

“I’ve found my brother and wanted to discuss his safe return with you,” he said prudently.  
Draco didn’t blink. “And what does your brother have to do with me?” he asked icily. 

Weasley gave him a patronizing look. “I may be a Professor, Malfoy; but I’m not blind to the chaos that’s ensued with Ron.” 

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me, Professor,” he responded.

“Only a blind man can ignore the war that’s going on between the houses currently.” Weasley continued. “I’m fully aware of the bounty that my brother has on his head.”

Draco played dumb. “Does he?” he said in mock astonishment.

“Rumor has it that you called it, yourself.” Weasley said, with a face of stone. 

“I didn’t peg you as one who believes rumors,” replied Draco. 

Weasley took a sip of his tea before continuing. “Normally I don’t. However, it’s no secret what they say about you, these days.”

“And what do they say about me these days, Weasley? Since we’re trading gossip like a couple of schoolgirls,” scorned Draco.

“They say that you’re a man without honor; a man without honor who can’t be trusted,” said Professor Weasley without breaking his eye contact.

Draco turned his head to the side and chuckled darkly. He leaned into the back of the chair, and sat there confidently, as if it was his throne. 

“You flatter me, Weasley. You give me too much credit.”

“No, I’m just smart enough to recognize the competence in those who wish to do harm to me,” the professor acknowledge. 

“You think I wish to harm you?” Draco smirked.

Professor Weasley didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t you?” he responded. 

“Why would I ever want that?” asked Draco calmly. 

It was Weasley chortling now. “You and your pack of serpents want to feast on my brother’s blood desperately. At this point, I think you’re willing to settle and take mine.” Weasley tipped his cup of tea to Malfoy, as a gesture.

Draco smirked.

“It’s a shame, Weasley. If you weren’t a born into that beastly family,” The ginger’s knuckles turned white, “You’re an alright bloke. I would have actually liked you. You’re not an emotional prat. You actually deserve the job that you have. You love dragons, and I…well,” Draco gestured his hand up and down, at himself.

“I’m so pleased that I satisfied my life’s ambition to be an alright bloke in your eyes, Malfoy,” Weasley said, his voice raspy. “But where does that leave us with my brother?”

“What would you have me do, Weasley?” inquired Draco. 

“Relay a message to your friends for me. I am as fair as can be, except for when it comes to my family. Ron is my blood. Should a hair on his head be touched, I will make whoever was involved pay. I am a man with honor; I swear it.” 

Draco stared at the professor for a brief couple of seconds. “I’ll speak to them, but I can’t promise anything, Weasley. Your brother did an excellent job of digging his own grave.”

Weasley nodded his head slightly, deep in thought.

“Is that all, Professor?” drawled Draco.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor nodded his head slightly.

Draco got on his feet and opened the door.

“Malfoy.”

He stopped at the professor’s mention of his name; with the door open in his hand, he turned to look back at the professor.

“That goes for you as well. If I find out that you’re involved in my brother’s suffering, I won’t spare you.”

Draco shot the professor a dark glare and slammed the door behind him.  
************************************************************************************************************************************************

He had barely made it past down the stairs, before he noticed an animated crowd in front of the Astronomy tower entrance. Draco had no idea what the frenzy was about, but he was about to find out.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Draco spun around. Blaise and Theo were walking towards him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Quidditch pairings are out,” said Nott steely.  
Draco snatched the sheet of paper out of Zabini’s hand. 

The pairings read as:

Match 1: Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin

Match 2: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff

Match 3: Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin

Match 4: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw

Match 5: Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw

Match 6: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin 

He crumpled the paper into a fist, in his hand. His breathing was accelerating. “THE COMMON ROOM, NOW!” he shouted at Nott and Zabini.  
************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

The Slytherin common room wasn’t outrageously occupied during this time of the day. 

The three of them headed towards the black leather couches in the center of the common room. The couches were already occupied by a group of underclassmen, who looked up at them at squeaked. 

“Get off of the couches,” Zabini ordered. 

They quickly scrambled away from them.

Draco sat down on the couch, wishing that he had a glass of gin in his hand. “I didn’t count on us playing Ravenclaw first. I figured we would play Hufflepuff first,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Blaise scrunched his face. “Why does it matter? Hufflepuff’s got a better team this year than Ravenclaw’s got anyways. We just need a clean easy win against Ravenclaw.” 

“No, I don’t want an easy win. I want to destroy Ravenclaw. I want to obliterate them away. I want to send them and the Gryffindors a message,” said Draco vehemently.

“Is this about sending a message, Malfoy, or is this about your own shit with Goldstein?” asked Nott resolutely. 

Draco glared at his friend. “Where did you hear about that?”

The dark haired boy shrugged. “I have my sources.”  
“Well, this has nothing to do with that. I want Gryffindor to see what they’re going to get from us, in the match against Ravenclaw,” sneered Draco.

“Gryffindor isn’t Ravenclaw, they’re the favorites for the cup this year this year for a reason,” inputted Zabini.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make them unbeatable,” countered Draco. Every team has a weakness. We need to find Ravenclaw’s and Gryffindor’s and press extra tight there and watch them crash and burn.” 

“Let’s start out with each of their strengths,” said Nott, taking out a notebook and quill.

“Ravenclaw’s defense is excellent this year. Their chasers won’t bother scoring with the quaffle at all; but they won’t let any of our chasers near their Keeper, let alone into the goal posts,” said Zabini.

Draco looked at the paper. “So their weakness is their lack of offense. I can easily outrace Goldstein and catch the snitch early on.” 

Nott held his finger up to stop him. “There’s a slight problem there.”

“Which is?” asked Zabini.

“We need as many points as we can get before we go into the match with Gryffindor, if we want any shot of winning them,” argued Nott.

Zabini threw the squeeze puff that he was playing with away. “Fuck!,” he huffed.

“How do we score points when they won’t anywhere near their goal post?” Draco thought out loud.

“We need to be aggressive with our size advantage. All of the Ravenclaw chasers are twigs. We need to use our beaters to intimidate them with their sizes,” reasoned Nott.

Draco groaned. “Fuck that, that means I have to play Montague into this game, and I’m not letting him anywhere near the field.”

Nott shook his head. “Malfoy, you need to get over your shit with Montague. If we want to survive this cup and war, we need to stay united as a house.”

“He’s a piece of shit and you both know it,” argued Draco dogmatically.

“Yeah and you already let everyone know how you really feel about him, when you punched him last week! People cannot afford to see the cracks in our house. We all have to appear as one,” quarreled Nott.

“He hit a woman and called her a mudblood. I did what was necessary,” spat Draco.

Zabini disagreed. “Granger has Potter for her bodyguard, to defend her honor. You know the rules, Draco. Montague is one of us. We snakes look after our own. We don’t hit each other.” 

Draco scowled. “We absolutely can’t win the season without Montague?”

Nott shook his head.

“Fine, he’s on the fucking team. Is that all we need against the match against Ravenclaw?”

“You need to keep Goldstein occupied away from the snitch. Whatever happens, neither you nor him can catch the snitch until we’ve reached 300 points, minimum,” advised Nott.

“I can hold him off for more than 300 points,” said Draco.

Blaise kicked his feet up on the center table. “Okay that takes care of Ravenclaw, what about Hufflepuff?”

Nott’s face tensed. “Hufflepuff’s main advantage is their Keeper. Garcia is absolutely nasty to score against. He lives in the goal post, without actually being inside of it. Finch-Fletchley is an absolute shit seeker. You can easily catch the snitch over him, but we run into the same issue we had with Ravenclaw, with collecting points with Hufflepuff; and Garcia can’t get shaken down with size.”

Draco squinted his eyes at the paper. “What if there’s another way around this?” 

“What?” asked Zabini.

“I could meet with Garcia, and maybe we could work something outside of the rules for the match,” continued Draco.

“And why would Garcia even agree to this? He’s a Hufflepuff, they always color inside the lines,” said Nott pointedly.

“Everyone has a price,” Draco smirked. “I’ll make him an offer, that he won’t be able to refuse.” 

“That leaves us with Gryffindor,” Zabini muttered, “Strengths?”

Draco scowled. “They’re the most athletic team, easily.”

“They have the fastest seeker,” Zabini shrugged his shoulders. “No offense, Draco.”   
“He’s got a firebolt,” said Draco with annoyance. 

“They have a huge advantage with the head of their house being the greatest Quidditch player in Gryffindor History,” acknowledged Nott.

Draco’s blood began to boil at the mention of Professor Weasley’s name. 

“They have Ginny Weasley, possibly the fastest chaser at Hogwarts right now,” said Zabini. 

“The real question is who’s playing Keeper for Gryffindor? There’s no way McGonagall would let Weasley back on school grounds, let alone play Quidditch,” inquired Nott.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually…” 

Zabini sat up straight. “What? Do you know something?” 

“Weasley called me in, the Professor; not weasel king. He told me that they’re bringing the weasel back to school; and he decided to warn me about how much trouble we’ll all be in, if we were to do anything to him,” snarled Draco.

Nott’s eyes flashed with anger. “This is bullshit. They are fucking unbelievable letting that deranged piece of shit back in this school. How is Pansy supposed to go to classes when she heals, when that imbecile is going to be there in her face? I won’t stand for this.” 

“We’re fighting this war for a reason, Theo.” Zabini attempted to appease Nott. “Weasley’s threat means nothing. Even if we get expelled, we’ve got so much money, we won’t even know how to spend it in one lifetime.” 

“Weasley will be bleed,” Draco interjected. “I promised all of you that, already.” 

“They call me a man without honor. I’ll show them exactly how right they are.”

Nott’s hand was tightened so firmly around his glass, that he was positive that the glass would break at any moment. 

“So how do we beat Gryffindor?” asked Draco, hoping to distract Nott.

“The team that’s pretty much considered unbeatable this year,” said Zabini staring into his glass. 

“No team’s unbeatable,” muttered Nott, before taking a sip. 

Zabini raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? What’s the plan then?” 

“Exactly how much blood are you willing to get on your hands for the game?” said Nott savagely.

Zabini stopped smiling and looked at Nott, shocked at their friend’s ruthless request.

Draco smirked and tilted his glass towards Nott. “A man without honor,” he said.

The corner of Nott’s mouth turned upwards sadistically. He raised his glass to Draco. “A man without honor.”

They drank to that.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Dusk finally came and Draco was completely exhausted from the long day that he had endured. His body was drenched in sweat, and his clothes were sticking to him. He just wanted to stand in a hot shower and wash the filth away.

He entered the common room, his broom in hand. Granger was already sitting at the table, studying, in the common room; her back was to him.

He walked past her silently. 

Draco returned from his shower several moments later. He placed his Potions and Runes textbooks across from Granger. He walked over to pour himself a generous glass of gin. He stood in front of the common room window and stared ahead at the Great Lake for a bit, while the gin incinerated his intestines. 

The gin finally chilled his veins after it settled in. He left the glass on the stand and returned to the table.

He sat down with caution; unsure of what temperament Granger would be in today. She didn’t look up from her books. 

He opened his Potions book and started reading the first problem of their assignment. 

“We don’t have to do the Potions’ homework.”

Draco looked up from his book to glance at Granger.

“What?”

“I ran into Slughorn; he told me that we’re excused from doing the assignment; it’s our reward for winning his challenge,” she replied.

“Brilliant.” He continued reading the homework problem that Slughorn assigned them.

Granger coughed. “You’re still doing the assignment?”

“You’re doing the assignment as well,” his eyes glanced to her book.

“Yeah but I’m me, I do every assignment,” she responded.

“You do realize that I’m the smartest student in our year…second only to you,” he said pointedly.

Granger smirked. “How much does that bother you, Malfoy?”

He chuckled darkly and went back to looking at his book. “Not as much as it used to bother me when my father would take his anger out on me for failing to outdo Hermione Granger.” 

The room was silent. Draco could feel her staring at him intensely, speechless. She was making him uncomfortable with her silence.

“I know I’m pretty to look at Granger, but do try not to stare for too long,” he said aloofly.

The Gryffindor said nothing. She returned back to studying as if nothing awkward had happened. 

Draco looked at her diligently taking notes on the chapter. The uncomfortable silence had returned. 

He coughed. “Did you see the Quidditch Schedule?” he asked her, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“I did,” she responded without looking up from her pen. 

“How do you feel about the upcoming match?” Draco’s curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know if she was harboring any resentment towards him facing her precious Goldstein. 

“What’s there to feel about it? Gryffindor isn’t playing in either of them,” she replied, still not looking up.

Her answer was irritatingly objective. He couldn’t detect any real emotion or feeling of the match beneath her poker face. Fine then, he would have to rouse her.

“So you would have no problem with me beating your boyfriend in front of the whole school?” he asked, urging her. 

She looked up with displeasure. “Ah, finally,” Draco thought to himself.

“Anthony’s not my boyfriend,” she replied with a piercing tone.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Granger.” He wasn’t going to let it go until she gave him a real response.

Granger sighed. “It doesn’t matter to me, who wins. Neither of the teams playing are my house’s team. May the better man win.”

Draco nodded at her. “May the better man win,” he repeated.

Granger looked him up and down for a brief second. Draco raised his eyebrow at her. She returned to studying. 

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Granger had retreated back to her room an hour ago. Draco didn’t want to sleep tonight. He didn’t have it in him to have another haunting dream. Instead, he chose to start the Ancient Runes assignment that was due a week from tomorrow. 

He worked in silence for countless minutes. 

Draco heard footsteps. He looked up from his work; surprised to see no one was there.   
He instantly grabbed his wand, ready to strike when the intruder revealed themselves.

His ears narrowed in the source of the footsteps. He aimed his wand carefully.

“Petrificus Totalus!” he shouted.

He heard a thump on the floor. 

Draco quickly walked to the target zone.

“Homenum Revelio!” he shouted at the floor, preparing himself for whomever he was about to see, and was about to have to do.

To his shock, there lay a petrified Hermione Granger in front of him.

“Granger? What in the bloody hell…?”

He quickly took the curse off of her.

The Head Girl groaned as she got up off the floor.

“What the hell were you doing and why didn’t you just walk out of here like a normal person?” demanded Draco.

Granger crossed her arms defensively. “I was going out…for a bit.”

Draco noticed that she had taken her stockings off. She was wearing nothing to hide her legs with her schoolgirl skirt.

He looked back at her face from her legs.

“You couldn’t go out by just walking out of here? Why the need for the invisibility?”

Granger bit her lip, as if she were contemplating telling him the truth of her secret task.

“I was going to the library…,” she said, hanging her head in shame.

Draco didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or roll his eyes. Granger was so predictable.

“Why would you go this late at night? You could have checked out any book earlier in the day?” He asked.

Granger looked up with him, her eyes beginning to cloud with embarrassment.

And suddenly it clicked for Draco. “Unless you were going for a book that you couldn’t check out… a book in the restricted section.”

The Head Girl’s cheeks reddened. “Yes, but you can’t tell anyone, Malfoy!”

Draco started to chuckle now. “Are you seriously reading for pleasure this late at night?””

Granger scowled at him. “Please, I’m going for a book for our Alchemy class.” 

He stopped laughing. “Is this for our exam next week?”

Granger nodded her head. “I’m using the book to study.”

“I knew it! That’s how you keep beating me on exams but you’re behind me in classwork. You’ve been cheating, Granger.” accused Draco.

The Head Girl’s eyes widened from his accusation. “I haven’t been cheating! It’s not my fault you haven’t thought of this yourself!” she said in a blazing fury.

“You’ve been cheating, Granger.”

She huffed. “Well now that you’ve inserted yourself in my business, I’m going to go back on my way.”

He started walking behind her.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. “What are you doing?” she asked him suspiciously.

Draco stared at her icily. “You don’t really think I’m going to give you an advantage over me for this exam, do you. If you’re going to the library, I’m going with you.” 

Granger couldn’t have hidden her disapproval any less skillfully even if she had tried. 

“May the better man win, Granger.” He reminded her of her words. 

She nodded back at glumly, displeased that her words had come back to bite her.

The Head Girl started walking again.

Draco grinned. He wasn’t about to tell her that the first two buttons on her white shirt had been unbuttoned the whole time.  
************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

The Hogwarts Library at two in the morning was unsurprisingly deserted. Not one single person or thing was in the library at this hour. Oddly, it was much nicer to be in the library without that cunt Madam Pince being here.

Draco walked behind Granger in complete silence. Even though the library was silent, he didn’t want to take any chances with Filch running in here.

Granger was reading the labels of the bookshelf aisles. 

“It’s in this aisle,” she whispered softly to him. 

He followed her into the narrow aisle. 

“Which shelf is it on?” he muttered to her.

“The 18th shelf,” she whispered to him.

Draco looked up. The 18th shelf was well beyond his or her reach. 

He looked around for a stand and saw one far across the other side of the room. 

“Accio stand!” he called. The stand came flying across the room. He quickly caught it with his hand before it could crash into the floor, alerting Filch.

“I’ll do the honors,” he notified her.

Granger shook her head. “No, I’ll do them. You don’t know what the book looks like. I hide it every time.”

Draco smirked. “Who knew you were this devious, Granger?” 

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled slightly. She turned around starting walking up the stand.

“I’ll catch you if you fall off the stand,” he told the back of her head.

She didn’t turn around. “No need, I can catch myself.”

Draco glared at the curls on the back of her head. She was so infuriatingly stubborn.

His annoyance instantly dissipated, and his breath quickly stopped as his eyes registered what was in front of him. 

Granger was at the top of the stand, and he could see under her skirt. He had a first class seat to her bare ass cheeks.

Draco gulped. 

Her butt was round and large enough for a girl of her proportions. It looked smooth and was free of any imperfections. 

The thong that her butt cheeks were swallowing was red; Gryffindor red. Draco didn’t care. He didn’t think that the color of her thong would make a difference to him at this point.

Who ever knew that Granger possessed an ass this nice?

“Goldstein knows” hissed a voice in his head. Draco growled. “Goldstein’s not here with her now, is he?” he barked at the voice in his head.

“Hmmm I wonder where I could have hidden it. It’s normally here.” Granger’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t care, just stay up there for the rest of the night.” Draco thought to himself. He had half a mind to hide the book, if it meant her not leaving his eyes.

“Found it!” she squealed.

Damn her to hell.

She began walking down the stand. Draco began to see less and less of what was underneath her skirt.

Granger got off the stand and suddenly he realized exactly how painfully close he was to her. They were only inches apart. 

She looked up at him. He fought himself to focus on her eyes and not the unbuttoned portion of her shirt.

“Let’s head back,” she said, handing him the book. She began to walk away, her short skirt dancing away with her.

And just like that, Hermione Granger had woken the beast in him.


	11. The Return of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life has been pretty hectic. Thank you all for your lovely reviews.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Dahlia and Maricar, for their amazing abilities to put up with my commitment issues lmao. Special shoutout to Aira! Thank you for liking the story so far!

November had always been the best month of the calendar, in Hermione’s opinion. The fall chills, the foreboding that winter was coming. In the muggle world, November was when London would have its lavish harvest festival. But most important of all, November had been the month of her mother’s birthday.

She considered the possibility of not going to classes today. The only class she had today was Transfiguration, and McGonagall would be more than understanding if she decided to skip it.

But skipping class had never been in her nature, and she was nothing if not a creature of habit.

Mom, do you remember me?

A silly question, the memory charm 

The silver lining was there was no chance that November third of this year could be worse than the November third of last year. Last year Harry hadn’t even asked her why she was so upset. He had just assumed that she had been upset about the situation with Ron. He hadn’t been completely wrong.

Ron had abandoned them; he had abandoned her. The locket had brought out the worst side in him; his irrational jealousy. Ron had fabricated a romance between her and Harry and. He hadn’t looked at her once, hadn’t given her the chance to explain once. 

Hermione remembered her pillow soaking from tears. She hadn’t been able to cast a silencing charm because of Harry sharing the tent with her; he would have heard her regardless of one. 

Mom, can you hear me?

Harry hadn’t. He had seemed more interested in the dot of Ginny’s name on the Marauder’s map, than of Hermione’s sorrow.

That was probably the first time that she had ever truly felt, horribly alone. 

A year later, and not much had changed. Harry didn’t even know what this day meant for her. 

Her best friend: the one she had risked her life for, the one she had eradicated her parents’ memories for, the one she took to Godric’s Hollow to visit the graves of his dead parents, when it could have cost her, her head; he had no idea of what this day meant. 

Ron had abandoned her once more. Unlike Harry, Ron knew what today meant for her. He had been the one she had spoken to about casting the memory charms. He had been the one she had cried to after she had done the deed. The boy who had been her best friend. The boy who she had loved most. What had he become now? The boy who could not be found. 

She stepped into the hallway to take a shower before class. The chill of fall hit her bare shoulders at once. 

Malfoy was opening the door to leave his room as she was closing her door. Hermione blushed uncomfortably; she had no desire for him to see in her just in a towel, she was sure he shared the same thoughts. 

“Were you going to the bathroom?” she asked.

He stared into her now probably blood shot eyes. He had been doing that a lot recently, prolonging eye contact with her. Hermione wanted to look away from his judgmental, stormy, gray eyes. What did Malfoy know of suffering? What did Malfoy know of loss? She thought angrily to herself.

“Granger?” 

He snapped her out of her brooding thoughts.

“You can have the bathroom.”

“Oh…right.” 

“Are you alright, Granger?” You look like…,” he awkwardly gestured his fingers at his eyes, “something’s upset you.”

Hermione didn’t want to see the bags under her eyes. 

“I’m fine. Bad dream,” she mumbled.

Malfoy nodded at her, unconvinced. “Well, I hope you feel better.”

She went into the bathroom. 

It was the first real sentiment anyone had ever given her since last year.

Hermione laughed at the irony as she removed her bath towel in the shower. 

Draco Malfoy was the only person who had commented on her pain, when her own best friends hadn’t even noticed.

She turned the shower nozzle on and made sure that the water would be scalding hot. 

Her thoughts went to her mother, on what her mother was probably doing at this point in her birthday, on what they used to do as a family.

Her father had probably already delivered breakfast in bed already. Two sunny side eggs, butter toast, bacon, and coffee with lots of cream.

They would go to her mother’s favorite restaurant in London: Dishoom, an upscale Indian restaurant. Hermione used to spend weeks making her mother’s present, just to reveal it to her at dinner. When she came to Hogwarts, she would be sure to have her present owled to her mother. This year she would have probably made her a vase with different calico cats. Calico cats had always been her mother’s favorite.

Her tears could no longer be contained at this point. Hermione slid to the bathroom floor and began to sob. She was so grateful that the silencing charm would prevent Malfoy from hearing her.

Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

She cried so hard that she was sure she was feeling her heart physically break. 

The water burned her skin; she was sure her back was now red, but she didn’t care. It was nowhere near the punishment that she deserved. 

What sort of monster would eradicate parents’ memories of their sole child, absolving them of the bond that they had sacrificed to create?

“Forgive me,” she cried into the fog, “Forgive me.” “Forgive me.” 

She had no one. She had no family. Everyone had forsaken her, the ultimate punishment for a girl who had forsaken her parents. 

She was alone.   
********************************************************************************************************

Hermione was walking towards the dungeons to RSVP to Professor Slughorn for the next Slug Club party.   
She noticed a young Ravenclaw girl walking towards her. Hermione had no clue of who the girl was. The girl looked like a fourth year at most.

The girl handed Hermione a small scroll and stammered “Professor McGonagall… wanted me… to deliver this to you.”

Hermione took the scroll and opened it.

“Dear Miss Granger,  
You are excused from Transfiguration today. I am aware of the troubling circumstances facing you today. Please take the day for yourself. My thoughts are with you.

I would also wish to inform you that Pansy Parkinson is to be released from the Hospital Wing come the end of this week. It is traditionally the Head Girl’s duty to assist with a female student’s return to classes. I am fully aware of the past that you share with Miss Parkinson. Considering the difficulty that the following several days will be for you, should you wish to assign this duty to Draco Malfoy, I would be more than understanding. Please let me know should this been be an issue. 

Best,

Professor M. McGonagall  
Headmistress”

Professor McGonagall had always been a clever witch. She had tried to soften the blow with the news of Pansy Parkinson by starting off the note with something nice.

Hermione handed the scroll back to the Ravenclaw girl. “Tell Professor McGonagall that it shouldn’t be an issue and that I will be more than capable of carrying out her assignment,” she said cryptically.

The mousy girl nodded her head, but she awkwardly remained standing there.

“…Can I help you with anything else?” Hermione asked her.

The girl shook her head and Hermione realized that the poor girl was too terrified to move. 

“Go along then,” she instructed her. 

Hermione looked at the watch. She dreaded what she would have to do next, but it was better to get it over with than to prolong it. 

********************************************************************************************************

 

To say that there was no love lost between Hermione and Pansy Parkinson would have been the biggest understatement of the century. Pansy had spent years ridiculing and cruelly mocking Hermione for her blood status and appearance. If there was anyone that Hermione hated at the same level as she hated Rita Skeeter, it was the hard-faced Slytherin. 

McGonagall picking her to help “transition” Pansy Parkinson back to the normal student rotations was laughable. Snogging Theodore Nott would be less painful than having to help that cunt breathe. 

But Hermione was nothing if not an overachiever. If it was the Head Girl’s duty to help a female student adjust to class schedules, then she would be damned if McGonagall received a complaint on her behalf.

She thanked the gods when she walked into the Hospital Wing to find it temporarily vacant, with the exception of the raging cunt that was Pansy Parkinson.

The Slytherin was sitting in bed painting her nails black. It was fitting for Pansy to paint nails as black as her soul, Hermione thought to herself. 

The bitch, Hermione wasn’t kidding; Pansy Parkinson was a female pug, looked up from her strenuous manicure routine. 

“Oh god, well they let just about anything in here, don’t they,” Pansy grimaced, as she looked Hermione up and down.

“I would say so, they let you in here, didn’t they,” replied Hermione.

Pansy Parkinson should not have picked today, of all days, to start with her.

“Did you come here with an actual purpose or was it just to dirty my air up?” asked the dark haired girl, uninterestedly.

For a split few seconds, Hermione understood why Ron had done what he had done. For another split few seconds, she wished that Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had been an extra ten minutes to finding Pansy. 

“For your information, Professor McGonagall sent me to do some charity today. She thought that I should start with taking out the trash first,” said Hermione testily.  
Pansy shot her a look with daggers coming out of her eyes. “You take that back!” she shrieked as she lunged for her wand, but Hermione was quicker.

“Accio wand!” she instantly summoned the Slytherin’s wand before she could get it within her grasp. “Careful now, you wouldn’t want to ruin that ugly manicure now,” she said coolly.

The bitch crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. “What the fuck do you want, mudblood?”

It was a cheap shot, completely unoriginal, and the pug-faced cunt knew it.

Don’t give her what she wants. The dirt on the bottom of your shoe is worth more than her.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Professor McGonagall sent me here because it’s the Head Girl’s duty-”

“To help me assimilate back into classes? Yeah, I heard,” Pansy simpered and smiled condescendingly. “Draco stopped by earlier to inform me.” 

“Did he know? Well then I’m sure he told you that-”

Pansy cut her off again. “You can stop wasting my time, mudblood. Draco will be handling me.”

There were about 50 things that Hermione could have responded with to the bitch’s last sentence.

“It’s not Malfoy’s job, it’s mine. Believe me, I’m not any bit happier than you are about this. It’s a day long process, and then we don’t have to ever tolerate each other’s presence again.”

“Are you deaf? I said-”

“Yes, for the love of god! I heard what you said! I also know that Malfoy, unlike you, is a reasonable person and he’ll be more than fine with me doing my damn job, instead of having to inconvenience himself,” said Hermione with frustration.

Pansy’s eyes flashed with a fury. “You don’t know him, Granger. Don’t pretend like you know any bit of him,” she snarled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was pathetic how possessive Pansy was over Malfoy after all the months after their breakup.

I do know some things about him. I know that he always does what’s necessary of him and he respects other peoples’ boundaries; and I know that he’ll think that this is my job and not his boundaries,” she replied confidently.

Pansy’s hardened face sneered. “You think that you know Draco better than I do?”

Hermione smirked. “Well, he’s your ex-boyfriend for a reason.”

She noticed the bitch’s hands twitch for a moment before they realized that Hermione had her wand.

“Whether I’m his ex-girlfriend or not, I’ll always mean more to him than a filthy mudblood like you,” hissed Pansy.

Hermione scoffed darkly. “What do I care about what Malfoy thinks of me?

“You can’t fool me, Granger. I see you for exactly for what you are.” 

Hermione widened her eyes in amusement. “Me?” she asked sarcastically, motioning to herself. “Tell me about myself. I an barely contain myself with excitement.”

The Slytherin growled.

“You might think that you’re the golden girl of Gryffindor, but you’re an insecure mudblood who serial dates purebloods to climb up the social ladder and to get validation in our world.” 

Hermione didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or howl more.

“You have a type. Granger. You like tall Quidditch player, who are purebloods to make your self feel better about your miserable blood status,” barked Pansy with disgust.

“I can’t help myself if they like my blood muddy, more than they like your’s “pure,” Hermione smirked. 

“Are you sure that they like your blood, or what you have to offer in between your legs more?” said Pansy savagely.

“You tell me, Parkinson. Does it work when you do it?” 

“Only Draco would know,” said Pansy haughtily, moving her nose high in the air. 

“I guess he didn’t like your offerings that much then,” said Hermione coldly.  
An ugly scowl came across Pansy Parkinson’s face. “At least he took my offerings. You can fantasize all you want to, but you’ll never get your claws in him.”

It shouldn’t have bothered her, normally it wouldn’t have. But at this point, it was becoming a matter for pride for Hermione. She wanted to wipe that smugness off of Pansy’s face. 

“Unlike you, Malfoy’s not the best that I can ever do, I don’t wet myself over the thought of landing him,” she said ruthlessly. 

Pansy smirked in disbelief. “You would only be so lucky to get Draco. He looks like the gods created him, themselves; the heir to the second largest fortune Gringotts has ever seen, the status and age of his family name, alone…it’s a shame for you, really. No matter how high you set your ambitions to get him, he hates you too much to ever soil himself with you.”

She couldn’t stop herself. “Malfoy doesn’t hate me,” said Hermione with certainty.

“Oh, I will disagree with you on that. He told me a couple of nights ago that he wishes that you had been killed at the battle of Hogwarts. Draco said it was a shame that he hadn’t been able to do it himself, then he wouldn’t be stuck having grime in his living quarters.” 

Hermione felt her throat go dry. She fought her facial muscles. As ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she was actually surprised. Although she hadn’t thought that she and Malfoy were best friends, she had thought that they were civil now. For him to say something so hideously disgusting about her, sparked a blazing fury within her.

Don’t let her see your rage. Don’t let her win

“Well, you let him know that if he ever wants to finish the job, he can be a man and knock on my bedroom door and do it himself,” she said as frigidly as possible.

Pansy gave Hermione a viciously sweet smile. “Why don’t you tell him, yourself? When you deliver my books and assignments to him.” She picked up a handful of books with papers within them and handed them to Hermione.

Hermione pursed her lips. “I’m not your servant. You can give them to Malfoy yourself when he pays you another visit.”

Pansy tsked. “It’s your duty as Head Girl to make sure that I’m adjusting back to classes. Are you failing to do your duty?”

Hermione glared at the cunt. She walked closer and snatched the books out of the dark haired girl’s hands, silently. She started walking away from her and towards the exit of the Hospital Wing.  
“Mudblood!” she heard Pansy shout from behind her.

“What.” Hermione grunted without turning around to face her.

“My wand.” It was a command, not a request.

Hermione debated between snapping her wand in half or stunning Pansy with it.

She settled for throwing the wand on the floor.

If the bitch wanted her wand back, she would have to crawl out of bed and pick it up off the floor herself, like the dog that she was. 

********************************************************************************************************

 

Hermione walked furiously towards the Great Hall in hopes of finding Malfoy. She swiftly flipped her hair over her shoulders as she raged about Pansy Parkinson’s words.

She had so been so bloody foolish to believe that he had changed at all. Malfoy probably had laughs with the Slytherins about how trusting she was of him. Hermione could just picture them howling about how friendly the Head Girl was with him. “Those fucking brutes,” she thought to herself. 

Malfoy was sitting next to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Daphne Greengrass was sitting across from them, discussing something animatedly. Zabini seemed to be howling from whatever Greengrass was talking about. God knew what it could have been about, given how insufferable Daphne Greengrass was. 

His howls quickly stopped when Nott gestured his head at Hermione, as she began walking towards the Slytherin table. 

Daphne looked visibly uncomfortable. “Maybe she didn’t like being near blood that was so muddy,” Hermione speculated to herself.

“Granger,” Zabini greeted her coldly.

Hermione didn’t bother addressing any of the Slytherins. She kept her eyes focused on the only one. 

The silver haired boy was stirring his bisque when he looked up at the sound of her name. 

“Granger what are you-” 

She threw the books at the Head Boy, cutting him off. Particles of meat and carrots went flying onto his robes and green tie. Malfoy looked down at his shirt in utter shock.

Daphne drew a sharp breath. Theodore Nott’s face reddened. 

“Pansy wanted me to deliver that to you,” Hermione said coldly. She quickly walked away from the table, trying to escape the Great Hall as fast as possible.

“Oi, Granger!” She heard Malfoy bellow behind her. She didn’t bother turning around to answer him. He was worthless as Pansy Parkinson was to her.

She managed to speed walk out of the Great Hall. 

“GRANGER!” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she gave in and turned around. “What?” she asked testily.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” Malfoy roared at her, ignoring the students that were passing by them, watching them. 

“Why do you care about what my fucking problem is?!” she yelled back at him.

His gray eyes flashed with a bolt of steel. 

“Because you just made it my problem!” he waved at his robes.

“I’m sorry that I inconvenienced you from your meal as much as I’ve inconvenienced you by soiling your living arrangements,” she said bitterly to him. 

Malfoy looked beyond exasperated. “What in god’s name are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you telling Pansy Parkinson of your life long dream of me being murdered and being relieved from the filth that I’ve brought into your world,” she spat at him. 

She watched as a look of pure confusion creeped into Malfoy’s pallid face.

His brows furrowed. “What? Where did you even hear that? Is that what Pansy told you?” he asked urgently. 

Hermione felt her blood turn cold. So he wasn’t even going to deny it; of course, why would he? He had probably proudly said it. She threw him a look of utter disgust and started storming away from him again.

“Granger! Don’t you dare walk away right now! You owe me a fucking explanation!”

She spun around angrily to face him again. 

“Did you or did you not tell Pansy Parkinson a couple of days ago that you wished that I had been killed in the battle of Hogwarts and that you had wished to be the one to do it yourself?” demanded Hermione.

 

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “No I didn’t!” he shouted indignantly. Hermione looked at his face, searching for his guilt. She had forgotten how skilled of a legilimens he truly was. 

“Why is it that I don’t believe you,” she said icily.

The Head Boy looked uneasy for a moment, as if he was looking for the right words. “Look, I never said anything about us living together, and I didn’t say any of this recently. What I had said, was back in second year; I had said that I wished that the heir of Slytherin had commanded the Basilisk to kill you, instead of petrify you. She lied to you, Granger. It was years ago! I don’t feel or think that way of you anymore!”

Hermione shook her head furiously at him, fighting back tears of blood rage. “You are despicable. I thought that you had changed. But you’re as much of a racist bigot as you’ve always been,” she spat at him.

Malfoy glowered at her as he narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, Granger. That’s not fucking fair and you know it,” he said lowering his voice dangerously.

She refused to listen to the bastard. “Are you kidding me?! Did you not hear what you just said?”

The Head Boy’s face hardened. “What would you have me do, Granger? I was twelve! I didn’t even understand what death was at that age! All I knew was that I was madly jealous of you outscoring me all the time and I just wanted to say nasty things about you. Let me remind you that you called me a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach when we were thirteen and you punched me. You don’t see me holding that over your head!,” he argued back.

“And I was right to say those things about you, and I stand by what I did!” Hermione said vehemently, crossing her arms. “There’s a line and you crossed it. Don’t speak to me anymore, unless it’s about our Head’s duties. We are not friends. We are not even acquaintances. We are nothing,” she spat at the Slytherin.

Malfoy shook his head at her angrily. “I’m not going to even bother arguing with you when you’re clearly being over-emotional. I don’t know what’s gotten your knickers in a twist today, Granger, but you need to work out your shit. When you’re ready, you can come and apologize to me,” he said furiously. 

He didn’t even let her argue back at him. He walked away from her, fuming, back to the Great Hall.  
Hermione glared at his retreating figure. 

Damn the Slytherins. Damn them all to hell. 

********************************************************************************************************

Ginny had been complaining for days about Hermione never making time for her; she wasn’t completely wrong. Hermione had been consciously trying to avoid the Gryffindor common room, a place where Ginny spent most of her time. Most of their house wasn’t fond with her being harsh with punishing Gryffindors attacking other students.

So when Ginny had asked her to come hang out with her while she scouted the Slytherin Quidditch team’s practice session. Hermione didn’t have a good enough excuse to deny her. 

She had truly missed her. Ginny had a fantastic ability to always be able to make Hermione smile and laugh, regardless of whatever was causing her distress. That was just how contagious Ginny’s warmth and energy was.

They were sitting at the quidditch stands. Ginny had a notebook placed on her lap; on the notebook she had drawn out a map of the Quidditch field and the jersey numbers of the Slytherin team. 

Hermione stared at the names inquisitively. 01 Zabini, 02 Montague, 03 Goyle, 04 Nott, 05 Moussa, 06 Vaisey, 07 Malfoy.

She stared ahead at the field, as she watched Malfoy speed by Goyle, as he shouted, “Hit the bludger harder, Goyle!” She scowled darkly, hearing his voice. 

“How’re they doing?” she asked Ginny, who was staring ahead quickly making notes of their positions.

“Honestly, I think that they’re going to beat out Ravenclaw pretty easily. I think that they have an 80-20 percent chance of beating Ravenclaw…sorry,” said Ginny uncomfortably.

“Why are you apologizing?” asked Hermione, not taking her eyes off of Malfoy as he quickly dodged a bludger and flew ahead to Theodore Nott. He whispered something to Nott, who began to squint as he heard more of whatever Malfoy was saying to him.

Ginny cleared her throat. “Because of Anthony…?,” her friend said with confusion. 

“What about him? Why does everyone seem to care if I think Anthony is going to win the match? asked Hermione, exasperatedly.

“Easy, girl!” chided Ginny, her eyes quipped. “Who else asked you about him?”  
“Malfoy did,” she replied. The blond was flying past Blaise Zabini and examining his position. 

Ginny instantly snapped her head to look at Hermione. “Malfoy asked you what?! He spoke to you about Quidditch?” 

Hermione raised her eyebrow at Ginny. “What… I don’t see what the big fuss is about?”

Her friend shook her head swiftly, and appeared shocked. “Are you kidding me? This is huge! Did he mention anything about the match with Gryffindor?,” she asked eagerly.

“No…all he did was ask me if I cared about who was going to win between him and Anthony,” said Hermione dully.

Ginny made a face and seemed to be deep in thought. “Why does he care about beating Anthony? Shouldn’t he care about beating Ravenclaw as a whole, and not just Anthony? That makes no sense.”

Hermione watched as Malfoy expertly dove downwards to catch the snitch. She hated to admit it, but he was a good seeker, possibly the best this year, barring Harry of course. 

“You know me. What do I know of Quidditch?” she said lazily to Ginny. 

Ginny didn’t seem to be able to let it go though. “Does he have anything personal with Anthony?,” she pushed.

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Hermione dryly.

“What aren’t you telling me, Hermione?” asked Ginny, insistently.

Hermione chuckled. “Nothing, I swear!”

Ginny frowned in disbelief. “That’s really weird. I understand Quidditch rivalries very well. There has to be a reason for why he has a personal vendetta against Goldstein.” 

“Who knows? I’ll ever understand why Malfoy does anything,” said Hermione, unable to move her eyes away from the Head Boy. It was almost as if he had known that they were talking about him in that very moment, because Malfoy suddenly locked his eyes with her’s. 

His stormy gray eyes were of ice; cold and unyielding. 

Hermione could feel his fury from across the field. 

“And he said nothing about the game against Gryffindor?” asked Ginny, expectantly, interrupting her thoughts. 

Hermione broke their eye contact. “Nope, why are you worried?”

Ginny laughed.

“No way. We’re the favorites for the cup this year for a reason, Hermione. Maricar, Aira, and I are faster than all of the Slytherin chasers. Harry’s, well Harry. Charlie’s been drawing plays with Harry. Literally our only problem would be our keeper. I’m praying that McGonagall is smart enough to let Ron play.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” muttered Hermione. 

“If she wants our house to be in its best form for the Quidditch cup, she should let Ron play,” fired Ginny.

Hermione bit her tongue. 

Does what Ron did not matter to you? Does it bother any of you? Brother or not, he besmirched our house’s name this year. Gryffindor where dwell the brave at heart. The house of the noble, chivalrous, and brave. 

Ron had acted with no bravery. Ron had acted with no honor. Ron had acted with no reason. And Ron was now a coward.

The other houses mocked them. Gryffindor, the once beloved of the houses, was now the most hated. Ravenclaw had only sided with them on pure facts, alone. The Hufflepuffs had gone far enough to side with the Slytherins because they could how unjust this situation had been.

Hermione got up. She needed to get out of here before she said something that she would regret to Ginny. Right or wrong, blood was blood. Ron was the blood of Ginny’s blood and Ginny loved him fiercely.

“I completely forgot. I have to meet Luna in the library,” she lied through her teeth.

Ginny nodded her head. “Okay! You should stop by tomorrow for our team’s practice. I know Harry wants to see you and we can go to Hogsmeade afterwards.”

Hermione smiled tightly. She didn’t want to see Harry for a while, he was going to be a sore subject for the next couple of days. 

“I’ll see you later.” She quickly ran away from the field, not noticing a certain Slytherin keeping his eyes on her silhouette. 

*********************************

Hours of studying in the library had finally calmed her down. Hermione had finally managed to release her demons into her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. God bless, Charlie.

Her anger had evaporated away, and she was feeling like an ass. She had been on a manic warpath after seeing Pansy Parkinson, and Malfoy had just gotten caught in the fire.

She had been beyond harsh with her words. Malfoy had been right. What he had said during second year, was irrelevant now. Pansy had gotten the better of her today, given the circumstances.

Malfoy was owed an apology from her, Hermione knew that much for certain. She left the library to go pay her debt to the Head Boy. 

When Hermione entered the common room, he was already sitting at the table doing work as usual. A cigarette butt was in ashtray, and three-fourths of his glass of gin had been finished. 

She knew that he had heard her come into the common room, regardless of him acting as if she was invisible.

Hermione walked closer to their table and put her books down. He had yet to look up.

 

She coughed before beginning. 

“I wanted to apologize for what I said before. I shouldn’t have thrown those books at you and I’m sorry for ruining your clothes,” she bit her lip for a second, “I’m also sorry for calling you evil. It was a low blow, and I shouldn’t have said it. It won’t happen again.” 

Malfoy finally broke his gaze from his notes and slowly directed his attention towards her. 

“And?” he demanded with a steely tone. He was going to make this as difficult as possible for her.

Hermione put her pride aside as she continued.

“And I was a complete, obnoxious jerk. You were right. I needed to sort my shit out today,” she said looking at her hands.

“Did you?”

She looked up at him and stared at him, hard. “No, but I won’t take it out on you.” 

Malfoy’s eyes bore into hers. “Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sure that you can talk to Potter about it.” 

“Actually I can’t. It’s about my parents and loss, As you can see, it would be unfair of me to talk to Harry, out of all people, about it,” said Hermione, softly.

Malfoy looked at her with an inkling of surprise. 

“I didn’t know that your parents had died?,” he asked, his tone significantly less severe than it was before.

“They haven’t. It’s more of a sacrificial loss than it is a literal one,” said Hermione dully.   
She suddenly realized who she was speaking to. He had been the first person who had actually spoken to her today, and she had gotten carried away. 

“Sorry, it’s not like you care.”

Malfoy sighed and put his quill down. The bags under his eyes looked darker than usual.   
“You know, for the brightest witch of our age, Granger, you can be really thick sometimes.”

“I beg your pardon?,” she asked incredulously.

“I know better than anyone else what it’s like to sacrifice everything for your parents. You think that I don’t know what you’re feeling? I can’t sleep at night from the sacrifices I made for my parents. I know what it’s like to have someone else take everything from you, without your consent.”

Hermione was speechless. She knew Malfoy didn’t know her pain, but he did know her pain. He had felt suffering; he had felt loss. 

“Why are you telling me all of this? Don’t you hate me?,” she asked him warily.

Malfoy’s icy gray eyes pierced into her’s and in that moment, Hermione felt completely bare in his presence.

“Because you’re the only one with a war mark on your wrist like me, it’s in our blood.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She knew that she didn’t need to. For in that moment, she knew that she and Draco Malfoy understood each other completely. It was a level of understanding that had been born out of blood and the hauntings of the grotesque acts of war. It was a level of understanding that had been created through sacrifices and solitude. It was a level of understanding that had come from being marked. 

They hadn’t become friends that night, but they had become friends that night. 

**********************************************************************

 

Hermione woke up to banging on the common room door in the middle of the night. She checked the clock: 4:12 a.m. Who ever was banging so loudly clearly didn’t care for how intrusive that they were being.

She groaned as she flipped her bed covers up. She grabbed her bed robe and she hurried out of the door to get the incessant pounding to stop.

As Hermione walked into the common room, she heard a door open from behind her. Malfoy peered into the hallway, shirtless without silk pajama pants. 

He scratched his eyes and groggily said, “who’s fucking knocking right now?” 

Hermione had never seen Malfoy without a shirt on, and he didn’t disappoint Pansy Parkinson’s high standard descriptions of his physique. 

The knocking grew louder and Hermione screamed “IN A MINUTE!” 

“I’ll get it,” she told him, and she started walking towards the door.

“WHAT?” Hermione yelled, as she opened the door to see the culprit.

Harry Potter was standing at the front of their door panting with an expression that had a mixture of panic and relief.

“Harry… now is seriously not a good time,” she said with annoyance.

Hermione turned when she heard a groan come from behind her. Malfoy looked murderous about the fact that it had been Harry who had ruined their sleep.

“God fucking damn it, Potter. Learn some fucking boundaries,” the Head Boy grumbled and he went back into his room and slammed the door loudly.

Hermione turned back to Harry, ready to share the same sentiments, although with much more tact than Malfoy had.

“No, Hermione, listen to me, this is important. I wouldn’t have spent fifteen minutes trying to wake you up if it weren’t,” her best friend insisted grimly.

There Harry was again, always assuming that his problems had more importance or urgency in her life, when he had never bothered to ask about her own problems.

“Harry, I’ve had a seriously bad day, and you’re the last person I want to see right now,” she said testily. Hermione knew her words were hurtful but with the amount of crying she had done today, she was furious that Harry had interrupted her sleep.

But her words seemed to have no effect on the rave- haired boy. “No…Hermione,” he said staring urgently at her, a hint of decisiveness in his voice. 

Hermione saw the look of pure apprehension on Harry’s face. Harry carefully moved aside.

A tall, lanky, shadow with big hands and big feet came out of the darkness and she grabbed her wand out of instinct. The shadow had a long nose and freckles. 

Her blood turned cold as she looked into the blue eyes that she had once loved so much. 

“Hermione…,” whispered the boy whose hair was kissed by fire, weakly, the fear in his voice was evident from so many feet away.

And Hermione’s heart froze.

Ron Weasley was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you guys liked the chapter! Reviews would be greatly appreciated. The next chapter will be up in a couple of weeks. See you all at the next update!


	12. Chapter 12: Burn Them All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: New chapter, new chapter! I decided to celebrate Scorpio season by doing what we Scorpios do best, smutting things up ;).
> 
> Special shout out to Aira! Your video was so adorable <3\. Thank you for loving the story :D
> 
> I’d like to give a thank you to Kaytee for proofreading some of my scenes. Thank you so much baby girl <3.
> 
> I’d like to give collaboration credit to Dahlia and Maricar. Thank you for helping with this chapter’s outline and for getting me to actually write it :P.

Granger was fumbling for a book in the top shelf, at the restricted section of the library late at night. 

Draco hid in the corner silently watching her. She had no idea that he was in the library, or that he was watching her.

He had a wonderful view of what was up her skirt once more. 

Granger finally found whatever book she was looking for and climbed down the steps of the stool that she was using. “Oof,” she muttered when she painfully landed on her feet. 

She began walking swiftly, hoping to get out of the library as inconspicuously as possible.

If only it were so easy.

“Going somewhere, Granger?” Draco came out of the corner that he had been hiding from.

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around to face him. “Malfoy,” she acknowledged his presence nervously.

Draco stepped closer towards her. “What have we here?” he said as he took the book out of her hands and examined it. 

“Granger, this book is forbidden from check-out. You were going to confiscate it from the library, when you shouldn’t even be in here right now,” he whispered.

“I…I just needed to borrow it for a bit for an assignment. I was going to bring it back as soon as I was done with the work,” Granger stammered with embarrassment.

“This book has the all of the answers to the next Runes exam. You weren’t using it for an assignment, you were using it to cheat,” he said. 

She looked terrified at her secret being out. He wanted to chuckle. She had nothing to worry about.

“You could be expelled for this, Granger. Wandering past curfew hours? Trespassing into the library? Going into the restricted section without permission? Stealing a book? You’re breaking so many school rules here. What would McGonagall say?” Draco said. 

“…She won’t ever find out. I’ll return the book before its too late” Granger whimpered.

“Are you sure about that?” Malfoy stepped closer to her. “I think that I’m going to have to report this to her.” 

“Oh god, Malfoy! Please, you can’t!” she cried out loud. 

“Shhh, Granger, I’m sure McGonagall will understand why her favorite student was out stealing books to cheat on her midterms exams.”

Granger shook her vehemently. “She won’t! She’ll expel me, if you tell her. Please, Malfoy! If anyone finds out, I’ll be humiliated. No one can know!” 

“I’m sorry, Granger. I don’t want to have to do this, but there’s nothing in this for me.”

“Please, I’ll do anything that you want,”

“That’s not what I want,”

“What do you want?”

Draco ran his thumb over her lips, rubbing them slowly. Granger’s body seemed to freeze at his touch. 

“I think you can think of something. Brightest witch of our age, aren’t you?” He said in a husky dark voice. He leaned forward and nipped her earlobe softly and started making a trail of wet, firm kisses down her neck. Granger’s pulse was increasing by the minute.

Draco pulled back to look at her in glory. A button from her white shirt had come undone. Her cheeks were rosy; Her lips were parted and her eyes gazed at him with uncertainty. 

His cock hardened at the very sight of her. 

“Well, Granger? Have you figured out what I want?” 

Granger nodded her head. 

“Are you going to let me have it?” He whispered as he brushed his finger along her cheeks and stroked her jawline. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, at his touch, and opened them once more.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Draco smirked.

That was all the consent that he needed.

“Get on the table, Granger,” he ordered her.

She obediently sat up on the table. 

Draco walked over and used his legs to push her thighs apart. He brushed his lips against hers, softly at first, and then forcefully, sucking on her lower lip. He wrapped his arms around her waist and then pushed her closer into him.

Granger gasped at the sudden abrupt movement and he quickly seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. He teased her mouth as he relished at the softness of her tongue. Her heart rate was quickening by the minute and it only turned him on more.

He broke apart from their kiss. Her lips were red and swollen; the product of his work.

Draco began unbuttoning the rest of her shirt and pushed it past her shoulders and his breath was caught in his mouth momentarily at the sight.

Hermione Granger was now shirtless, wearing nothing but her uniform skirt and a white bra; and she was his to do anything he pleased with. 

He practically growled at the thought and didn’t want to waste anymore time. He grabbed her mane of curls into his fist and pulled them lightly. He sucked the skin of her neck and then lightly bit it. Granger howled sweetly at the feel of his dominant bites.

Marks. Granger belonged to him. 

He unhooked her bra and threw it behind him. Granger shyly covered her chest.

“Let me see you,” he whispered to her as he took her arms in his hands to bear her nude form to himself; her breasts now fully exposed.

“You’re perfect,” he reassured her before he cupped her breasts in his hands. Granger sighed beautifully as her breasts fit perfectly into his palms. 

Her nipples hardened as he rubbed his thumbs across them. Granger gasped louder than she had previously and threw her head back in pleasure.

“Ohh…Malfoy, I want…” she pleaded mindlessly.

“What do you want, Granger?” he chuckled as he kissed her breast.

“You, I want you… Malfoy,” she begged.

Draco smirked. He took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked it hungrily while he massaged her other breast. 

Granger moaned loudly and writhed impatiently. Draco broke away from her and grinned. He pinned her down onto the table, on her back.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me, Granger,” he requested. 

She swiftly moved her legs apart.

He lifted her skirt and got on his knees. He pulled her red panties off and brought them down her legs. They were absolutely soaked. 

Granger was looking at him with a look of fascination. He licked the inside of her panties and leaned forward and licked her lips. 

Draco put her panties aside and focused back to her center. He kissed her pretty pussy and started sucking it as feverously as he had her beautiful breasts.

She moaned loudly, in copious pleasure. He flicked her clit and slid a finger into her.

God she was so tight. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were rolling back. 

He added another finger in her. He fucked her with his fingers and put his tongue to use. Draco groaned when she came on his finger, screaming. Never had he heard a noise so perfect.

He licked his fingers, trying to taste every last bit of her. 

Draco got up off his knees and started unbuckling his belt. He threw his pants off as quickly as he could. He brought his shirt above his shoulder and tossed it aside. 

“Get on all fours, Granger,” he commanded her. She happily obliged him.

He circled his cock around her pussy before he shoved it in. Granger welcomed him like a soft glove. She was warm, wet, and so fucking tight.

Draco groaned at the feel and sensation of her and began thrusting. She mewled sweetly.

He grabbed her panties, that he had tossed aside previously, and wrapped them around her mouth while he held the end around her back. 

“You’re a naughty girl, Granger. Coming into the library, late at night, thinking that no one would find you,” he taunted her, plunging into her from the back.

Granger moaned into her panties incomprehensibly. 

“You’re so filthy, howling my name so loudly while everyone’s asleep. I bet you want them all to hear you, don’t you? Do you want to tell everyone how wrong it is, to be so wet under my cock?” he said while making his thrusts harder.

“But you can’t even do that, can you, because you’re too busy sucking your own cum. You disgusting girl,” Draco growled in disgust. He reached over and spanked her ass, hard.

Granger whimpered but she couldn’t help herself and pushed herself back on his cock vigorously. 

“Do you like the taste of yourself, Granger? You’re such a filthy girl. You used to hate me didn’t you? You called me a foul git once, and look at you now. You’re taking my cock, loving it, you dirty bitch,” Draco spat at her. 

“I’m fucking parts of your pussy that no one’s ever fucked before. You’re the golden girl of Gryffindor and here you are writhing on my cock like a whore.” 

Granger’s moans seemed to only intensify as her hips pushed back on his cock furiously. She was close, he could sense.

“I want you to cum for me, Granger. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he instructed her. He took his fingers and rubbed them around her clit. 

She howled into her panties, louder than she had all night, arching her back. Her pussy clenched around his cock so tightly that Draco almost lost it right then and there.

“Fuck, Granger. I’m going to cum soon. I’m going to cum inside of your perfect beautiful pussy,” he said panting.

“Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.”

“That’s right, Granger, say my name. You’re such a good girl,” he said at his wit’s end. He pounded into her as he held her hips, going as deep inside of her as he could.

“Malfoy!”   
“MALFOY!” 

He opened his eyes to someone shaking him. As his vision cleared, he saw Nott standing in front of him. 

“What… WHAT THE FUCK, NOTT?!” Draco shot up in his bed, covering his bottom half as well as he could. “There are fucking boundaries.”

If Nott had seen anything, he was pretending as if he hadn’t. 

“I know, but this is urgent. Weasley’s back at Hogwarts.”

And for the probably thousandth time in his life, Ron Weasley had managed to ruin another one of Draco’s pleasurable memories.

 

************************************************************************

Draco held a finger, signaling Nott to be quiet. He checked the common room and bathroom to see if there was any presence of Granger in the quarters. The coast was clear.

Nott made himself comfortable on the couch.

“Are you absolutely sure he’s back?” Draco asked.

The dark haired boy nodded his head. “I know for sure. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“How long has he been back for?” 

“He got to Hogwarts late last night,” Nott answered him. 

“How did you find out?” Draco asked. He wondered if Granger had heard the news yet. Of course she had. There was no way Nott would find about this before Granger did. 

Nott gave him a bemused smirk. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Draco grimaced. “No, I forgot that you were disgusting. I really don’t need to know.”

Nott shrugged. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe Weasley had the balls to come back,” Draco said as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What are we going to do about this?” Nott asked.

“What is there to do? We don’t know McGonagall’s plan. Pansy keeps refusing to come forward. Weasley’s brother is a god damn Professor and the fucking Head of Gryffindor. Weasley’s a war hero and practically a saint to everyone; the ministry is in shambles and won’t fucking touch him!” Draco shouted exasperatedly.

“Well we need to figure out something, and fast. We’re lucky that we found this out on friday and now we have three days without classes to prepare for this. If the rest of the house finds out about Weasley, we won’t be able to control them,” Nott said. 

Draco scoffed. “Who says I want to control any of them?”

“You’re saying that you’re fine with a bunch of our housemates running around spewing unforgivables at any Gryffindors they see? Look at where that got Crabbe,” retorted Nott.

“Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, they all knew what they were getting into with us. I’m not going to sit and pretend to feel bad about what could happen to them,” Draco dismissed him.

“Malfoy, you’re talking crazy right now. There’s already so much fuel around this situation that all one person needs to do is to light one tiny flame, and everything will come burning down.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Nott, and I’m saying that I don’t care. Let them burn,” said Draco coldly.

Nott shook his head in disagreement. “What you’re talking about is madness, Malfoy.”

“No Nott, it’s self-preservation. I don’t care if the whole fucking Great Hall is covered with their blood and bodies as long as it’s us left standing there,” countered Draco. 

“And what if we get thrown in Azkaban? You might have gotten lucky the first time, but there’s no way the ministry’s going to exonerate you for a second time,” argued Nott with exasperation.

“McGonagall’s not getting the ministry involved. Getting the ministry involved means that they find out about this Weasley disaster, and that jeopardizes her job as headmistress.”

“So you’re banking your future on that old hag’s actions? When she’s clearly proven to have flawed judgment,” Nott said testily.

It was Draco’s turn to shrug. “I’m not particularly worried. We can hardly get incriminated ourselves for something our housemates chose to do. We survive, other students get hurt, and McGonagall is exposed and goes down. It’s win-win from where I’m looking.”

Nott stood up. “I’ll come back to talk when you’ve started to think rationally again,” he muttered.

“Don’t count on it. I’m going to Hogsmeade with Blaise in an hour,” said Draco dryly.

Nott’s displeasure remained in the room, long after he had left, as Draco sat and contemplated the current ramifications of Weasley’s arrival.

************************************************************************

Three Broomsticks was swarming tonight. Everyone seemed to be in the mood to celebrate the end of their midterm exams. Unfortunately for Draco, that meant that Goldstein and Granger were here as well. They had taken a secluded booth of the pub to suck face together. 

Watching Goldstein snog Granger was possibly one of the most nauseating things that he had ever seen. Goldstein seemed hell bent on letting everyone know that Granger was with him, and she didn’t seem to be complaining.

Draco and Blaise were lucky enough to get two seats at the bar facing away from them.

“Two firewhiskeys please,” Blaise requested to the witch working the bar. “Keep them coming would you please, darling,” he winked at her, sliding her several sickles extras.

The witch smiled at Blaise and gathered two glasses, blushing. She quickly put out two glasses filled with fire whiskey.

“What’s your name?” Blaise asked her.

“Susan,” she replied. “I already know who you are…you’re Blaise Zabini, aren’t you?”

Draco grabbed the glass and quickly took a long sip. The liquid burned his digestive tract almost as much as the sight of Goldstein on Granger was burning in his mind. He took another sip, more like a gulp this time, in an effort to make the image go away. It didn’t work.

“Me and my friend are getting off our shift in a couple of hours. Do the two of you boys want to stick around until?” Susan asked perkily.

“Who’s your friend?” Blaise asked as he turned around searching for the mystery girl.

“She’s the redhead working the tables over there,” Susan singled out.

Blaise nodded his head in approval. “Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco didn’t bother turning around to observe the random girl. He took a sip of the firewhiskey and put his glass down. “Not interested, I prefer brunettes” he said coldly.

“Sorry about my friend here, he’s been in some weird state of celibacy since him and his ex broke up. Bad break up if you ask me,” Blaise apologized to Susan.

“Try having the Dark Lord live under your roof for a year, then come and preach to me about celibacy, Zabini,” Draco though bitterly to himself.

Draco felt a poke on his shoulder and a tiny note fell next to his glass. He spun around to see who had poked him, but there was no one near by who could have possibly done so.

“Did you just nudge me?” he asked the Hufflepuff girl sitting three stools away from him, talking animatedly with her friend.

The girl looked at him nervously and shook her head. “I didn’t. I swear,” she said anxiously.

Draco skimmed her face suspiciously before muttering “sorry,” and looking away. He read the note that looked scribbled on.

“Meet me at the top of the Astronomy tower at 9 tonight. Come alone. It will be easier for both of us,” the note read.

For the life of him, he couldn’t recognize the handwriting. It was definitely a male’s handwriting. There was no way a girl could be capable of writing that hideously.

“What does it say?” Zabini instigated.

Draco crumpled the note and slipped it into his pockets. He stood up and put his cloak on. “Just some girl asking me to meet her by the dungeons.”

Zabini’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Look at you getting back in game, Malfoy.”

“Don’t get excited. I hate watching you be happy,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. He started walking towards the door of Three Broomsticks.

“At least you’ll be happy too,” Zabini yelled over his shoulder. 

Draco smirked. “We’ll see,” he called out to Zabini. He pushed the door open and walked out into the night.

************************************************************************

Draco looked out of the top of the Astronomy tower. Whoever had sent him the note clearly didn’t have an antipathy for heights. It would be impossible for anyone to overhear any conversation that occurred at the top of the Astronomy tower.

He waited impatiently as he kept checking the hourglass. The perpetrator was over twelve minutes late and Draco didn’t have valuable time to spare.

Regardless of how curious he was to see who had called for this meet up, Draco refused to wait beyond twenty minutes.

What kind of an asshole is late to a meeting he requested himself, Draco thought to himself.

He wasn’t surprised when the answer to his question walked into the apex.

No one else could be as ignorant and disrespectful of someone else’s time as this prat could.

“Potter,” Draco greeted him menacingly. “You’re late.”

“Malfoy,” Potter said with a stony face. He rolled up his sleeves. 

“There’s a lot we have to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review and leave comments! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. See you guys at the next update.


	13. Raging Gryffindors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for being so MIA/ the short chapter last time! I’m the worst. I’ve finally come out of my coma. I read all of the reviews for the last chapter and I apologize for the lack of action. I promise that the next chapter will be filled with action/ deliver with a lot of drama. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys don’t mind this chapter in the mean time for Sagittarius season. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

“Ron just got here about a half hour ago.”

“Hermione-”

“No!” Hermione immediately shouted.

Harry’s face tensed from her response to Ron’s welcome. 

Ron winced as if she had struck him. “Hermione please-” He tried again.

“NO!” Hermione put her hand up. “You do NOT say another word to me!”

But Harry, unlike Ron, could not take no for an answer. “Hermione, this is important. You need to listen to-”

“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” Hermione roared. “Anything that I hear at this point, I’ll have to testify at a Ministry investigation, should one occur, breaking my plausible deniability. I refuse to hear one more word about this.” 

Harry and Ron were eerily silent. Neither of them dared to speak after her outburst.

“I’m taking you to Charlie’s office,” Hermione declared after several seconds had passed, breaking the silence.

“Actually I’m staying-” Ron began correcting her.

Hermione shot him a murderous glance. Ron understood and quickly shut up. 

“Start walking, now.”

And for the first time in months, the three of them walked together at Hogwarts. 

***************************************************************************************************************

 

Charlie had been more than understanding to her, as Ron’s older brother. He had warily nodded once Hermione explained to him why she was delivering Ron to his door. He had thanked her, quickly wished her and Harry a good night and bid them adieu. 

Hermione and Harry walked the hallways aimlessly in silence. She could sense Harry stewing away from several feet behind of him.

“Just say whatever it is that you have to say, Harry,” she sighed exasperatedly.

Harry stopped walking and turned to look at her. “I don’t have anything to say,” he said coldly, and he started hastily strolling once more.

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the pace of her walking. “I don’t need to be an occlumens to know that you’re peeved with me. Why don’t you save us the time and drama and just tell me what I’ve done to displease you?”

Harry stopped walking once more, abruptly. Hermione heard him grit his teeth before he finally spoke. “I understand that you’re Head Girl and there is a certain code of ethics that you have to follow now, but really Hermione?! The fact that you wouldn’t even listen to Ron, after everything that we’ve been through… I guess I’m just shocked.”

It had been weeks of angst and frustration that had brought her to this braking point. But Hermione felt the drawstring of her patience snap. There was no more that she could take from either Harry or Ron. She had nothing left to give them.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You cannot be serious right now, Harry. You’re shocked at MY behavior? Are you going to blindly ignore what Ron did to warrant my treatment of him, like you’ve always done whenever he and I fought?” she spat angrily.

“This isn’t the same as the times you two bickered like children, and you know it!” Harry glowered. “This is our best friend that we’re talking about, and he needs us now more than ever. The entire school is against him and there are people who would gladly have his head. That’s more important than his mistake! I thought that you out of all people would understand that.”

Hermione shook her head angrily. “Are you kidding me?! The Slytherins being out for Ron’s neck, does not take precedence over his hideous mistake. He made the mistake! He was spiraling out of control for months and it was only a matter of time before he made a mess of things. And now you want me to sweep everything that he’s done, under the rug like nothing’s happened?”

Harry slammed his hand into the wall in frustration. “Yes! Yes, I do, Hermione! In this one instance, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Harry continued.

“Hermione, I need you to forgive him; I’m not asking you here. There has to be a point to all of this, after everything that has happened. For Fred’s death, for Molly and Arthur’s pain…What the hell did we fight this war for, if it wasn’t for the people we love the most?! We’re family! You don’t just abandon your family when things don’t go your way!”

Hermione snorted and shook her head in disgust. “You of all people, should never speak to me about abandoning family, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes blazed with fury. “Watch it,” he said dangerously.

But that was the problem. Harry just didn’t seem to understand that she didn’t have anything left to lose at this point.

“No, you watch it!” she snapped back at him, indignantly. “I abandoned my parents, my own blood for you! Don’t ever try to make me feel about abandoning my “family.”” 

“DO NOT PUT THAT ON ME!” Harry roared as he aggressively pointed at her. “I never asked you to do that. You did that on your own accord!” 

“BECAUSE I REALIZED WHAT WE WERE FIGHTING FOR AND CHOSE TO MAKE THAT SACRIFICE!” Hermione bellowed. “THAT’S the entire point, Harry! We fought for a better world, one without terror and fear. I put our cause first, over my own damn family. And what did Ron do? He disrespected everything that we fought for in his own moments of selfishness!”

It was like talking to a brick wall. Harry’s stubbornness would never allow him to see her reasoning.

“He was hurting and his mind was impaired. Ron would have never acted like this if Fred hadn’t died. He wasn’t thinking when he attacked Pansy, and he’s had months to think about what he’s done. He’s trying to fix everything and you not giving him a chance to explain himself, isn’t helping anyone,” argued Harry.

“Maybe,” acknowledged Hermione, “but me speaking to Ronald will definitely hurt me. And I’m tired of hurting for the two of you.”

Harry glared at her.

“No, I’m serious, Harry. The two of you just always assume that I have to take to put up with your crap. And part of that is my own damn fault; I always enabled your treatment of me. But I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of shouldering the two of yours’ responsibilities. I’m exhausted, Harry.” She sighed.

“I lost everything in the war: my mum, my dad, Ron. I can’t fight another war with the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs. Not when what Ron did, goes against everything I believe in,” she said.

“He’s still the same person, Hermione. Just talk to him and see for yourself. He’ll tell you everything that happened. You’ll see that there’s still something worth saving in him,” insisted Harry.

Hermione shook her head sadly. 

“I knew that you wouldn’t take my side on this, Harry. I know that you love me, but you’ve always loved Ron more. He is the one person you love most in this world. But that’s the thing… love blinds us. You can’t see the fine line between right and wrong this time, because of your love for him.”

“And you don’t love him?” Harry croaked dejectedly.

She ignored the question. 

“I know that I can’t stand by him. I don’t agree with what he did. I don’t want to be involved with any of this maelstrom. Ron being here means that the Slytherins will want blood, now more than ever. I just can’t do it again.”

“So what, you want to be a coward and sit this one out while the rest of us fight to protect Ron?” accused Harry.

Hermione looked at him blankly. “I’m not going to sacrifice the remnants of my sanity to fight Ron’s battles for him.”

“If you’re not with us, then you’re very clearly against us,” said Harry forcefully.

“I guess I haven’t been making myself clear then. I’m finished with Ron. And as far as I’m concerned, if you stand by him, Harry, then I’m finished with you as well,” Hermione said with a gulp in her throat.

He didn’t speak for several seconds. Unfortunately, Hermione knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth to utter the words. 

Harry grimaced painfully and Hermione willed herself to keep the tears from falling from her eyes.

“This is how we end eight years of a friendship? A friendship where we’ve broken every school code and law in the handbook? A friendship where we’ve sacrificed everything to live in a tent in the woods for months, to save the world? A friendship where we’ve fought in battle side-by-side, and missed death by seconds? This is how it all ends between us?!” Harry yelled angrily.

Hermione couldn’t control the tears that had started to trickle down her cheeks. She brushed them away with her hands. 

“You take care, Harry,” she rasped. “You do what you can to save him,” she said, almost breaking out in a sob. “Just make sure that you all get out of this thing safe and whole.”

Harry gave her a slight nod; a mixture of misery and fury was plastered all over his face. 

She smiled at him once last time, bittersweet.

Hermione walked away from him as fast as she could, her heart breaking more and more with each step.

***************************************************************************************************************

 

All classes had been cancelled for the day. Hermione contemplated spending her off day in the library doing some extra reading, but she was still trying to recover from the encounter between Harry and herself. 

So she went to the one place where she had always found refuge in the past whenever she was in a spat with Harry and Ron.

As Hermione walked across the grounds close to the edges of the forest, she knew that she come to the right place.

She was within fifteen feet of the gamekeeper’s hut when the front door opened, and out stepped Rubeus Hagrid. 

Hermione grinned. “Hagrid!” she exclaimed. 

“I was startin’ to w’nder when one of yeh were plannin’ on payin’ old me a visit!” Hagrid boomed.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and beamed. “Well I’m honored that I’m the first.”

“Well come on in, Hermione,” Hagrid said. “I’ll git some tea boilin.”

Hermione made herself comfortable in the hut, as she watched Hagrid hover over his copper basin, filling his teapot. 

“Treacle toffee, Hermione?” Hagrid turned around, offering her a bowl of sweets.

“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Hermione, as she popped a toffee into her mouth.

 

“So how have things bin goin’? I didn’ want to disturb yeh aft’r Professor McGonagall told meh of what happ’ned with Ron.

Hermione smiled stiffly. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Hagrid. Harry and I got in a huge argument last night about what to do with Ron. I think that I may have lost them both after the things that I’d said last night.”

Hagrid frowned and walked over with a cup of tea. He set it on his scrubbed table. 

“Why do yeh reckon that yeh’ve lost them? Harry an’ Ron love yeh. It would take a whole lot mor’ than jist a fight fir them ter stop lovin’ yeh.” 

Hermione fumbled her nails at the edge of the cup of tea. “This time’s different, Hagrid. I can’t defend them. I feel like I’m always left to pick up the pieces of their follies, and if I pick up the pieces once more, it’ll take everything from me.”

“Hmmm…did yeh say this ter, Harry? What did he hav’ ter say ter it?” inquired Hagrid.

Hermione took a sip of her tea and set it aside. 

“Harry said that I was either with them or against them and I told him that I was very clearly against them.”

Hagrid sucked in a breath. 

“Exactly,” Hermione said sullenly. “He wanted me to go visit Ron and talk to him.”

“An’? Did yeh?” asked Hagrid.

Hermione looked at her friend and shook her head. “How can I, Hagrid? I can’t face him after everything that’s happened…after everything he’s done to me.” 

Hagrid didn’t say anything and took a loud gulp of his tea. 

“What do you think?” she asked her friend.

Hagrid took a big sigh. “I think yeh sh’ld pay him a visit.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she waited for Hagrid to finish his thoughts.

“Yer angry now, Hermione. But when the anger goes ‘way, and it will as time’ll go on, y’ll wish that yeh had talked to Ron. Yeh love him, and that kin’ of love doesn’ just dis’ppear.” 

“But Ron treated me horribly, Hagrid. He said cruel things to me and disrespected me every chance that he got, for the past several months,” she protested.

“Don’ do it fir this Ron. Do it fir the Ron yeh loved fir all thos’ years,” Hagrid rationed. 

“Do it fir yerself, Hermione.”

Hermione didn’t stop gulping down her tea until the cup was empty.

 

***************************************************************************************************************

 

Hermione knew that she had refused Harry’s pleas. She knew that she had told him about this not helping her and furthermore, hurting her. But she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to let her conscience rest if she didn’t do this.

She found herself walking up the steps to the Gargoyle corridor. She braced herself, before she tentatively knocked on the black door.

The door quickly opened, revealing Professor McGonagall.

“Ms. Granger, I figured that it was only a matter of time before you showed yourself here,” said Professor McGonagall astutely.

“I won’t be making any returning visits, Professor,” said Hermione stiffly.

Professor McGonagall gave her a piercing look before instructing her, “follow me.”

Hermione wordlessly trailed behind the headmistress until they finally arrive at an abandoned entry. 

“I trust that you can see yourself in and out discreetly, Ms. Granger,” said Professor McGonagall.

“I’ll see to it, Professor,” said Hermione, grimly.

Professor McGonagall walked out of the isolated corridor, leaving her alone before the door.

Hermione contemplated walking away and just returning to her chambers. It was sure to be a less taxing situation than the one in front of her. But she refused to run away in cowardice.

“Merlin help me,” she thought to herself before she pushed the doorknob open.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Ron Weasley was lying down on a twin sized bed reading the Daily Prophet, a picture of the Chudley Canon’s graced the newspaper’s page.

The red-haired boy glanced up at Hermione and dropped the paper in shock. 

Two years ago, she would have found the gesture charming. Today, it didn’t faze her.

Hermione wordlessly walked around the foreign room. Ron had been given a desk that was filled with all of his schoolbooks, a lamp, and his own restroom. 

He silently watched on and she stood silently, her eyes roaming the room. She finally decided to break the tension.

“They’ve set you up pretty nicely, I see…all things being considered,” Hermione said coolly. 

Ron sat up in an upright posture. “The perks of having your older brother as a professor of the school, I reckon,” he muttered meekly.

He crossed his legs on the bed. “I didn’t think that you’d come. Harry told me about the row the two of you had last night,” he said warily.

Hermione pursed her lips. She pulled the chair away from the desk and brought it close to the bed. She positioned it near Ron and sat down on it, crossing her legs.

She stared intently into his blue eyes. “Truthfully, I wasn’t planning on coming until about a couple of hours ago,” she said carefully.

Ron didn’t look surprised. “What changed your mind?” he inquired softly.

“Hagrid,” she replied.

Ron’s eyes lit up at the mention of Hagrid’s name. “I haven’t seen Hagrid in ages. How’s he…” He trailed off when he realized that she wasn’t here to share stories. 

“Right, carry on,” Ron mumbled.

Hermione cleared her throat. 

“I realized that I owed it to you, our relationship, and our friendship, to hear you out, regardless of whatever had happened,” she said monotonously.

“You don’t owe me anything,” protested Ron.

They both stared at each other, neither knowing what to say.

Hermione finally spoke.

“I want to know what went wrong since the day that Fred died,” she said solemnly.

Ron took a sharp breath and contemplated something for a couple of seconds before nodding in agreement.

“When Fred died…None of us have been strangers to death, with Sirius’ death fifth year. I knew what it meant to lose someone you loved and cared about. But when Fred died, I didn’t know how to think. All I could think about as I watched his lifeless body, was “Fred’s never going to speak again. That’s my brother and I can’t remember the last prank he pulled on me.” 

“I had spent months trying to search for horcruxes. I had barely gotten the chance to speak to Fred during those months, even when I had deserted you and Harry. And suddenly, there we were. We were all fighting a war and Fred was gone. He would never laugh again or sit for family dinners.”

Ron’s lip began to quiver and his blue eyes became glassy. Hermione gulped. This was as going as difficultly as she had expected it would.

“All I wanted to do was just kill and see blood. Blood for Fred. I wanted to kill them all. I was a man,” Ron paused and corrected him self, “a boy possessed.”

“We won the war and sent the remaining Death Eaters to Azkaban. But then everyone wanted us to be fine with it and let go of our rage. These people had taken so many lives, destroyed so many families, and for what? So that they could sit in a cell at Azkaban counting out their final days?”

“I couldn’t let go of the rage. Rage was the only coping mechanism that I had left. If I let go of the rage, then that meant accepting that Fred had died, just for his killers to live in Azkaban, while their children went to Hogwarts with us.”  
“and then you and I happened.” Ron stopped talking to stare at Hermione. “Are you sure you want me to talk about this?”

Hermione bit her lip. She had already gently been wiping some tears away from her eyes. Ron and her had never spoken about their relationship or breakup together, rationally. 

“Yeah, I think I need to hear this,” she urged him on. Ron gave her an easy smile.

“I always grew up thinking that I was overshadowed by everyone. Bill was Head Boy and mum’s eldest, Charlie was one of the all times greats in Hogwarts’ Quidditch history, Percy was Prefect and Head Boy, Fred and George were the trouble makers, and Ginny was the youngest and our little sister. I was just plain, average Ron.” 

“And then we became best friends, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Somehow, I had managed to befriend the Harry Potter, and the smartest girl at our school. Me, poor plain Ron.”

“When you went to the Yule Ball with Krum in fourth year, it made me more jealous than I had ever been in my entire life. It was the first moment that I realized how I felt about you. I couldn’t bear the sight of you in another bloke’s arms. I knew that you deserved Krum as your date to the ball, more than I deserved you. Why would you like your average best friend, over an international Quidditch player? And that insecurity just continued to fester over the years.”

“I always thought that I would never be good enough for you. You were so out of my league. Everyone knew it. You knew it. I knew it.” 

Hermione shook her head in disagreement. Ron shot her a knowing look.

“And then you gave me a chance. The moment that I had spent years dreaming about, finally happened the very day my entire world came crashing down.”

“Everything went horribly wrong between us, Hermione. We were supposed to spend the first couple of months being blissfully happy that we had finally gotten it right. Instead, I spent the first day of our relationship sobbing like a mad man into your shirt. The rage quickly came back to me the next day and I took it out on you.”

“The way I took you for the first time had been terrible,” Ron said, hanging his head in shame.

Hermione’s eyes widened, in offense. Ron quickly realized the error of his words.

“Oh blimey, no. That’s not what I meant. You were good, better than good actually-”

“Ronald,” Hermione said pointedly. “Why don’t you stick to the topic at hand?” she said in embarrassment.

Ron grimaced uncomfortably.

“What I had meant to say was that I had been forceful and selfish with you. I was using sex as an outlet for all of my demons, and I think a part of you knew that. It wasn’t as if I was making love with you. It was as if I was a dying man, and you were the only water available to keep me alive.”

Hermione started using her hands to fan her eyes, she could feel the tears starting to well again.

“I understood why you broke up with me; it wasn’t on you to try to save me. But I couldn’t accept it. If I tried to feel the heartbreak that came from you leaving me, it let me feel the heartbreak from losing Fred; and that was going to kill me.”

“So I did what I could to cope. There was no one left for me to kill. I didn’t want to ride dragons like Harry did. I couldn’t bear to be near any family for long, Fred’s ghost was lingering in all of our faces. You and I couldn’t bear to be near each other. So I tried to live my hours of every day, forgetting that it had happened.”

“Sleeping draughts didn’t work. I always ended up dreaming of Fred. The only thing that seemed to work was alcohol and drugs. The firewhiskey never took the rage away, and I didn’t have to feel the heartbreak.”

“And what about all of those girls that you bedded?” Hermione heard herself ask bitterly.

“Sex helped distract me. I couldn’t tell if it had been imprinted on me after I used it as a coping mechanism with you, but it just made me alive. I wasn’t a drunk, numb, rage-fueled monster trying to run away from mourning his dead brother and his ex-girlfriend, when I was having sex. I was boy whose blood was still pulsing through his veins; a boy who was still capable of feeling some fleeting semblance pleasure.” 

It was as honest an answer Hermione was positive that she would ever get from him.

Hermione finally asked the one question that she had been dreading to ask all along.

“What happened that night with Pansy Parkinson, Ron?” she asked with as much serenity as she could muster.

Ron covered his face with his hands and rested his elbows on his feet. Neither of them spoke while Ron kept his face hidden for a few moments more.

He finally brought his face away from his hands and let out a small sigh of despair.

 

“I had been drinking for hours that night. Patrolling with…Pansy Parkinson had always been brutal, so I had slipped a couple more drinks in me that night. We were bickering like we normally did on patrol nights, but that night it was different. We ended up running into Reginald Lestrange, that first year Slytherin. He had been lurking the grounds for no apparent reason and was so fucking smug when I asked him about it. For a first year, he had no problem calling me a blood traitor. I almost attacked him then and there, but Pansy sent him squirming away.”

“My rage had consumed me. A Lestrange had been in my proximity for a few minutes, and he had showed no humility or respect. Fred had died in a war of blood prejudice, and yet this little shit was alive and proudly carrying on his family’s generational blood supremacy propaganda.”

“I was so drunk and at that point, it had felt as if Fred had died for nothing. Voldemort may have been gone but pureblooded bastards like the Malfoys and the Lestranges were alive and thriving.”

“I was already burning in my own wrath, and then Pansy managed to add fuel to the fire. She just wouldn’t stop with her jabs at me, at how poor our family was, at my father. When she brought up you dumping me, I just wanted to find a way to make her stop talking, just to deafen her. At that point I knew that I just wanted to hurt her, so I called her a whore and hoped that it would be enough to get her to shut up.”

“But I should have known better with Pansy Parkinson. She immediately retaliated, asking me if I had got to see the look on Fred’s face when he died, or if I was too busy drinking my sorrows away.”

“And that was it. At that moment, Pansy Parkinson stopped being a girl that I had gone to school with for years. She became them, a blood supremacist who hadn’t suffered a day in her life; one who hadn’t lost in the war. In that moment, I was reeling from the nerve of that raging cunt to even utter Fred’s name off of her tongue.”

“Everything changed in a matter of three seconds. That’s all that it had taken. One second to grab my wand, another to lift it, and then the final to utter than incantation. And then she dropped to the floor and I saw her blood gushing out. She was my rage come to life, personified.”

“I froze. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. She was going to die, and it was all because of my lapse in drunk judgment for three full seconds.”

“I thought about running to Harry but Gryffindor tower was too far away, by the time that I would have arrived there and gotten Harry to come out with me, Pansy would have been dead. I didn’t want Harry, or Charlie and Ginny for that matter, to be involved in her murder, when they had had no part in it.”

 

“So I did the only thing that the heavily intoxicated version of me could think to do, I howled as loudly as I could, hoping to wake up any and every Slytherin. I ran to Harry’s dormitory and grabbed his invisibility cloak and then I escaped Hogwarts’ grounds, before apparating to Grimmauld place.”

“Did you feel any remorse at all for possibly killing her? There was no way you could have known that she had survived the attack while you were escaping,” asked Hermione, searching Ron’s eyes. 

“I don’t know if I felt remorse. I had felt disgusted with myself when I saw the blood gush out of her. In that moment she hadn’t been the pug faced bully she was her whole life, she was a human body with her life supply gushing out of her. I had felt more nauseous than anything,” replied Ron, candidly.

“I know that you want me to say that I had felt remorse for hurting Pansy, but I don’t, Hermione. I feel remorse for being stupid enough to do this at Hogwarts, and potentially causing Gryffindor it’s chance at the house cup. I feel remorse for triggering a spiral of events and then running away, while leaving my housemates and family members to shoulder my burden. I feel remorse for putting the lives of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws in danger. But I don’t regret what I did to Pansy Parkinson. I have too much anger inside of me, to convince myself that she didn’t have it coming for her. She should have never mentioned Fred’s name to me. If I had the chance to, I would do it all over again, except I would have done it at the battle of Hogwarts. No one would have blinked an eye if I had attacked a Death Eater groupie on the battlefield, but they call care now because it was done in dusk of night.”

“So no, Hermione; I don’t feel remorse for what I did to Pansy. I feel remorse for all of the people I’ve hurt and put in the danger in the process, but I could care less about Pansy Parkinson herself,” Ron said fiercely, with a finality to his tone.

Hermione was speechless at the conviction that Ron spoke with. She hadn’t been prepared for him to be adamantly unapologetic.

Her stillness seemed to unsettle Ron. “Well for the love of Merlin, say something,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

“I…,” she paused and licked her lips. She hadn’t drunk water throughout the day and now her mouth was making her pay for it. 

“I understand why you did what you did, Ron. I’m not saying that what you did is right, but how you reacted in that situation was human. I’m happy that you came back to Hogwarts and get the help that you so desperately need,” Hermione said carefully, searching for her words. 

Ron smiled sadly. “But?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “Why do you think that there will be a but?”

“I’ve known and loved you for years; I know when there’s going to be a but with you,” Ron said with certain tranquility.

She chuckled bitterly.

“But I can’t be there for you while you do all of this. You have your possession by rage, Harry has his personal war with Death, but I just have myself drowning in my shame. I’m a shell of my former self. I can’t take on anymore, Ron. I will lose my wits if I do, and for once I have to pick myself over you and Harry,” said Hermione resolutely. 

“You do whatever you need to do, Hermione. If there’s anything that I understand, it’s doing what’s necessary to survive.” 

Hermione sniffled. “God I knew that this would was going to be hard, but I didn’t that it would be this brutal.” 

Ron laughed. “I’m sorry that I don’t have tissues or a handkerchief.”

Hermione waved her hand mindlessly. “No, you’re fine. Was there anything else that you wanted to say to me?”

Ron’s brows burrowed in thought. 

Her stomach jilted at the thought of whatever Ron could have left to say.

He finally ended her anxiety.

“Are you still in love with me, Hermione?”

***************************************************************************************************************

 

As she walked away from the Headmistress’s chamber, Hermione felt as if she was leaving a piece of herself behind. The feeling wasn’t foreign. So many parts of her had been eradicated already: her mother, her father, Harry…and now Ron.

She raced down the stairs, hoping to avoid any more of her housemates.

“We’re family! You don’t just abandon your family when things don’t go your way!”

“If you’re not with us, then you’re very clearly against us.”

“It was as if I was a dying man, and you were the only water available to keep me alive.”

The words were like knives. Hermione quickly brushed some of tears with the sleeve of her robe, though it was a futile effort. The corridors were dark with only a few torches lighting the hallways where no one could see her in the night.

She was a couple of steps away from the Head’s corridor when she heard someone drawl her name from behind.

“Granger.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and quickly withdrew her wands from her robe.

Malfoy came out of the shadows, as if he had been lurking there silently for hours.

She breathed a sigh of relief and put her wand back into her robes. “I didn’t realize that stalking me was one of your new found hobbies,” she said testily.

If her comment had offended him, Malfoy showed no indication of it doing so. He ignored it. “You went to go see, Weasley,” he remarked, coldly.

It was a statement, not a question. Hermione didn’t bother asking how he had found out Ron’s return. But it wasn’t a shock to her. She had known that it would be only a matter of time before the news of Ron’s arrival leaked.

Hermione turned around to walk away from him and began walking to the portrait of the Baron.

“I did,” she replied dryly to Malfoy, over her shoulder. “Grindylow,” she muttered to the Baron. He tipped his cap and the door swung open.

Hermione walked in silence, with Malfoy following behind her.

She had made it up to her room door until Malfoy finally spoke again. 

“Granger,” she heard him say. She put her hand on her door knob and turned to look at Malfoy.

“Things are about to get a lot more dangerous at Hogwarts now, with Weasley’s return. Be careful with that target on your back. You wouldn’t want someone to find you alone at night,” the Head Boy warned her, stonily.

Hermione opened her door. 

“Something tells me that, that won’t be an issue now; with your new hobby of stalking me,” she quipped to him.

Malfoy’s eyes bore into her’s.

Hermione curled her lip and slammed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys for reading! Please leave reviews/ comments. See you all at the next update.


	14. The Lion, The Witch, and The Serpent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope that I didn’t let you guys wait too long for this chapter!
> 
> Thank you all for your reviews and comments. They were very helpful/ I’m glad to know how all of you feel about the story so far. Please leave some more comments for this chapter; they’re pretty much the only things that push me to write these chapters lol.
> 
> I’d like to give a thank you/ collaboration credit to my saltmate, Dahlia. Thank you for your input on Malfoy’s jealousy. 
> 
> Happy reading and happy holidays to all of you!

After Granger had slammed the door to her room, Draco rushed into his room. His head was swarming with thoughts from their interaction, primarily rage. 

He made way to his nightstand and reached for his bottle of gin. His hand shook uncontrollably as he poured fin into his glass, spilling bits of the liquor all over his nightstand.

Draco sat on his bed and downed the entirety of the glass within one gulp; at this point it went down like pumpkin juice.

He poured himself another glass and took a normal sip this time, and then thought about Granger.

He was appalled that she had gone to see Weasley. She had been so appalled and self-righteous with Weasley’s offense. He would have never guessed that she would be one of the first people running to go see Weasley. 

“Are you really surprised though? You’ve seen the way she’s looked at him for years,” a sinister voice said in his head.

Draco winced angrily.

Granger’s love for Weasley had been infamous. No one had ever doubted it. Not even Draco himself.

But Draco had been absolutely certain that she had stopped loving the fool after the attack on Pansy. 

Weasley had slowly destroyed her energy. Ever since the fall terms had started, Granger had been increasingly become more subdued, angry, and broody. 

Draco didn’t need to enter her mind to see how much emotional baggage she was carrying from Weasley.

But tonight after returning from Weasley’s corridors, she had looked better than she had in ages. Granger had looked tranquil and lighter. It was as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted from her shoulders. Draco wasn’t stupid enough to think that it was simply coincidence that her happiness was linked to seeing Weasley.

“Maybe Weasley fucked the demons out of her,” the voice said again.

Draco turned his head sideways and back angrily. He couldn’t think coherently from that thought. The thought of Weasley and Granger together again, touching each other…; it sent the boiling blood rushing to his head and nausea rushing to his gut. He ran his fingers through his hair furiously, trying to get himself to think clearly. He failed.

He finished his glass of gin and slammed it on the table. He reached to pour himself another glass; he would definitely regret it in the morning; but at the moment, he needed something to prevent himself from entering Granger’s mind for Weasley’s whereabouts and then using the Cruciatus on that imbecile. 

Granger was dating Goldstein, not Weasley. Regardless of everything, Granger was too moral to ever cheat on someone. She wouldn’t have slept with Weasley tonight, without breaking up with Goldstein first.

The voice laughed in his head gleefully. “You’re a fool if you think she wouldn’t pick Weasley over everyone else.”

Draco’s hand shook as he brought the glass up to his lips and bitterly thought about the truth of that statement. 

Weasley didn’t deserve her. He was a dumb, useless, oaf who she was so much painfully better than.

He stood up from his bed and paced around his room.

“You think that you deserve her more than Weasley does? She’ll never be able to accept the monster that you are,” the voice said menacingly.

Draco froze in front of his mirror from that thought. 

The bloke in the mirror had dark bags under his eyes. His hair was a fucking mess, having been furiously pulled into different directions. His robe weighed heavily on him, the Slytherin emblem gleaming on it, mocking him for not having Weasley’s lion emblem.

Draco tore his robe off in rage and threw it on his bed. He looked back at the reflection and his breath caught in his throat at the sight.

The large skull and serpent mark on his arm burned his arm, though no where near as much as it had the day it had been given to him.  
“Say whatever you will about Weasley, at least he isn’t marked by that. Weasley may be an oaf, but Granger will never look twice at a demon like you,” the voice whispered viciously.

Draco hissed in blind rage. He threw the glass of gin furiously at the mirror. The mirror shattered, sending glass fragments flying all over his floor, some landed on his bed. The broken fragments of a Death Eater’s soul.

He shook his head at the irony. He took out his wand and quickly muttered “Reparo.” 

Draco walked away before the mirror could fully become whole again. 

He would sleep much better without seeing the mark a second time that night.

**********************************************************  
It was barely dawn when he had called for a Quidditch practice. As the season was coming closer to its start, Draco was becoming increasingly paranoid of the other teams eavesdropping on the Slytherin’s practice session. The only time that the other teams were scoured at the Quidditch field was at the crack of dawn. Draco had began scheduling regular practices at 5 a.m; a decision that was obviously unpopular with his team mates. 

His housemates were very disgruntled in their robes, this early in the cold November weather. 

Most of them had murderous expressions on their faces. Even Zabini and Nott looked like they were dreaming of Draco’s demise. 

“All right, I hope that all of you are ready for dives today, we’re going to be doing a lot of drills.”

“Malfoy, have you lost your damn mind?!,” voiced Montague angrily. “It’s five in the fucking morning.”

“Come on, Draco. I just want to fucking sleep already,” complained Goyle.

“Quit bitching already,” spat Draco. “Do you want to win the match against Ravenclaw or do you want to get your precious sleep?”

“I want to sleep since we could very well do dives later in the day,” Moussa offered testily. His other teammates nodded their heads in agreement.

“Seriously, Draco, you’ve just been paranoid about people watching us practice. We haven’t even had the chance to have breakfast yet,” muttered Goyle.

Draco felt his anger flare, in spite of his hangover. Goyle had picked the wrong morning to challenge his authority. 

“Did you really just say that to me?” he whispered dangerously.

“Draco…” Nott said cautiously.

Draco stepped closer to Goyle, who’s face began to look at unease.

“Do you think that I don’t have better things to do right now? Do you think that I want to be standing here with all of you in the freezing cold, sweating before classes?” He spat angrily. 

“Why do you think we’re doing diving drills today, Goyle?” Draco challenged the beater.

The other Slytherins looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Malfoy, he didn’t mean anything by it,” Moussa tried to step in to defend Goyle.

Draco abruptly held his hand up, silencing her. “Let Goyle speak for himself,” he said, not moving his eyes away from Goyle’s face.

Goyle had broken out into a cold sweat. He looked as if he would have been back in the Room of Requirement with the Fiendfyre, than be here with Draco interrogating him.

“I…well…I don’t know, Draco,” the large boy stammered. 

Draco walked closer to the point where he was standing half a foot away from Goyle’s face. 

“Of course you fucking didn’t, Goyle. Why don’t you get it through that thick skull of your’s, that we’re playing Ravenclaw first, and they are the quickest team this year. The only way we stand a chance of beating them, is if you and Montague can dive fast enough to attack their players. We’re having this practice for you. I know how hard it must be for you to not be eating for a couple of hours of your life. But why don’t you do me a favor and shut the fuck up and stop bitching about not being able to shove a tray of eggs down your gullet?!?” Draco screamed.

Goyle’s face crumpled.

“That’s enough, Malfoy!” roared Nott. He walked over to Draco and yanked him by the arm and steered him away from the rest of the team.

“Get your hands off of me, Nott!,” roared Draco.

“Not until you take the stick out of your ass!,” snapped Nott in response. “Listen I can see that you have a problem with Ravenclaw, a huge one at that. But right now, you’re making it the entire team’s problem. You just projected your own shit on to Goyle, and that’s unacceptable.”

“He’s just fucking standing there complaining about having to practice. He signed up as beater. He should know by now, if I’m scheduling practice at 5, then he needs to show up at 5 and keep his goddamn trap shut!,” Draco screamed.

“Draco,” said Nott carefully. “Draco, look at me.” 

Draco reluctantly looked at Nott.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you can’t take it out on us. You need to apologize to Goyle. He didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not going to stand there and abuse him,” commanded Nott.

Draco glared at Nott and then sighed. “Fine, I will. But you know just as well I do that someone’s got to tell him to lose weight.”

They started walking backing towards the rest of the team.

Nott shook his head. “Trust me, you’ll be very pleased with Goyle’s size in our matchup with Hufflepuff.”

Goyle was being standing in a corner, tears streaming down his face, as Moussa and Zabini comforted him. As Draco got closer to him, Goyle’s cheeks reddened. Moussa glared at him.

“Goyle, I’m really sorry for the way that I spoke to you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You’re a valued member of this team to me. Can you accept my apology?” Draco gritted through his teeth.

The large boy whimpered a “yes” in response.

“Thank you,” said Draco in response. “Let’s get you back to the field. We need to get on with this practice already.”

Goyle sullenly agreed and began strutting back to the center of the field.

Draco rolled his eyes from how dramatic the situation had been.

Practice went by quickly. Everyone seemed keen on avoiding any more squabbles after Draco’s outburst on Goyle.  
After three hours had passed, Draco decided to call an end to the practice. Everyone needed to eat before classes started. He made sure that everyone had changed out of their Quidditch robes before they went to go eat breakfast. He didn’t want the other houses finding out that they had been scheduling practices early in the morning.

When the team got the Great Hall, they were absolutely ravenous. Most of breakfast was spent wordlessly scarfing food down their throats. 

Draco skimmed for Granger at the Gryffindor table, but there was no sight of her. Potter and Weasley’s sister sat together. The prat looked particularly troubled today. Draco couldn’t imagine what could have been troubling Potter this early in the morning, when Granger had looked so happy last night.

Granger finally came into the Great Hall, distracting Draco from his observations of Potter. 

He watched as the witch carefully skimmed the Gryffindor table and stared at Potter. The scarhead dropped his fork onto his plate and glared at her. Granger scowled back at him. She looked as if she was contemplating leaving the Great Hall, but then she headed towards the Ravenclaw table. 

Draco felt a knot come to his throat in disgust.

Goldstein seemed pleased as Granger slid into the seat next to him. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Granger silently began to fill her plate with food as Goldstein continued chatting with Michael Corner about something.

Draco had lost his appetite. He stood up, any place was better than being in the Great Hall right now.

“Where are you going?” asked Zabini curiously at Draco’s abrupt attempt at leave.

“I need to get to Divination early,” muttered Draco crossly.

As he walked towards the end of the table, he stopped for a brief moment when he saw Moussa sitting there casually chatting with her friends. 

Draco cleared his throat. “Moussa?”

The brunette looked up from her conversation and her face turned to concern when she saw him standing there.

“Malfoy?” she asked flatly.

“I need a word,” requested Draco. “In private.”

Moussa reluctantly excused herself and walked with him to the corner of the Great Hall.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked accusingly.

“I need a favor from you,” pressed Draco.

Moussa looked at him distrustfully. “Why me?” she asked.

“Because you’re the only person who could make this happen for me,” Draco replied nonchalantly.

She laughed. “Why would I want to do you a favor?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you want Slytherin to win the cup?” he asked her.

He watched as her eyes lit up at the question. She hesitantly nodded her head.

“I can’t imagine what you want from me, but if it gets Slytherin the cup, I’ll most likely do it,” she replied.

That was exactly what Draco wanted to hear. 

“I need you to ask Garcia to meet me alone at the Quidditch field tonight at 8:30,” he said.

Moussa looked perplexed. She definitely hadn’t been expecting that request.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “What do you want with George?”

“Relax, Moussa. I’m not going to attack him. I need to have a chat with him, captain to captain,” Draco drawled.

“Why wouldn’t you just ask him for the chat yourself?” Moussa asked accusingly.

Draco shrugged. “It’s no secret that Garcia doesn’t particularly care for me, and I have a much better chance of getting him to meet with me if you convince him that it’ll be worth his while.”

The chaser bit her lip, as if she were debating refusing his request. 

“I’ll deliver the message to him, but you had better make it worth his while, Malfoy,” she dictated.

“Don’t worry, Moussa. What I’m offering him, he’d have to out of his mind to refuse,” Draco responded.

“Was that all?” she asked him.

Draco looked over at the Ravenclaw table once more. Goldstein had his arm tightly around Granger’s neck. He tore his eyes away from the table once more. 

“Yeah one more thing,” he said, focusing back on Moussa. “You’re good friends with Eliza Yaxley, aren’t you?” 

Moussa looked at him with amusement. “I am…why?” 

“Let her know that I’ll be looking around for her at the Ravenclaw game,” quipped Draco, grinning.

Moussa laughed in spite of her self and shook her head. “You’re trouble for her, Malfoy,” she groaned.

Draco smirked, cheekily. “Oh believe me, I know.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said bemusedly.

“Thanks, Moussa. I owe you,” he said. “That’s all, sorry for keeping you from breakfast.” 

She rolled her eyes and walked away.

Draco fought his urge to look at the Ravenclaw table once more.   
**********  
He stood alone at the deserted Quidditch field. The field was the safest place to have a talk with the Hufflepuff team captain with everyone eating dinner at the Great Hall now. Any lurking eavesdroppers would immeidiately be exposed, given the spot that he had chosen for the meet.

The chills of the final month of fall resonated in the air. Draco lit a cigarette and took a pull, slowly blowing the smoke into the cold.

He watched a hooded figure approach him stealthily. As the figure came closer, Draco could make out the Hufflepuff keeper. He took another drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke upwards into the air.

“Garcia,” Draco greeted the Hufflepuff.

“Malfoy,” Garcia drawled in response, “was so bloody important that you had to insist that I meet with you.”

Draco rubbed his hands together; the cold was leaving them frosty. He took the cigarette off from his lips. 

“Do you want a drag?” He offered to the keeper.

George shook his head. “I don’t touch that stuff. Let’s skip the small talk, Malfoy. Why the hell are we here in the freezing cold, instead of eating dinner?”

Draco smirked.

“Garcia…how badly do you want to win the Quidditch cup?” Draco inquired before taking another puff.

George snorted. “Are you kidding me? You seriously dragged me out here just to ask me the dumbest question? Obviously, I want to win it more than anything.”

Draco nodded his head and flicked some ash off of his cigarette. “Well, what if I told you that I had a way to make it happen?”

“Well in that case, I have just one pesky question for you: why won’t you just have Slytherin win the cup?” George said with derision.

Draco shrugged. “I’m not promising a Hufflepuff cup victory here, but I’ve figured out a way to increase both of our chances of winning the Quidditch cup.”

George narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And why would you want to bother with increasing our chance at the house cup? Why not just keep this probably impossible strategy to your self for Slytherin?”

Draco took another pull from his cigarette and coughed slightly. George rolled his eyes. 

“Because the only way either of our houses has a shot of winning that cup, is if we work together.”

The Hufflepuff raised an eyebrow at him and chuckled. “This is going to be brilliant to listen to, go on Malfoy, let me hear this lunacy.”

Draco ignored the keeper’s mockery. “Hufflepuff plays Gryffindor first, and anyone with minimal Quidditch IQ knows that Gryffindor’s the favorite for the cup this year. There’s almost no chance of Gryffindor losing that match.”

George pursed his lips. “Yeah? Well our odds of winning increases if Weasley don’t play as keeper.”

Draco chuckled darkly. “Come on, Garcia. Don’t kid your self. If McGonagall was bold enough to let that scum back into the school, she’ll have no problem having him play if it means an her assured win for Gryffindor.”

“So what? Even if we lose to Gryffindor, we still have a shot at the cup with beating you guys and Ravenclaw,” Garcia replied.

“See that’s the thing…what happens if you lose to us? You’ll be going into your final match with Ravenclaw, down by two. I’ve never seen a team win the Quidditch cup, having only one game,” reasoned Draco.

“I’m still missing the part of your magical solution to our predicament, Malfoy,” said Garcia gruffly.

“It’s really simple, Garcia. Slytherin will just have to throw the match to Hufflepuff. We’ll give you a guaranteed win against us; Hufflepuff can go into the match against Ravenclaw being 1-1, while Ravenclaw will probably be down two having played us and Gryffindor first,” rationed Draco.

The Hufflepuff chortled. “That’s it? You’re going to tell me that Slytherin will just hand us a win, that easily. Cut the bullshit, Malfoy. What do you want in return?

Draco smirked.

“I need you to let us score a certain number of points in the match, before Finch-Fletchley catches the snitch. You have my word that I won’t be looking for the snitch. If there’s any hope of Slytherin winning the cup, then we need to have a certain number of points before our game against Gryffindor. It’s a win-win for both of us. You get a guaranteed victory, we get the points that we need,” he explained.

The Hufflepuff shook his head while laughing.

“Do we have a deal here, Garcia?” Draco asked.

“Your reasoning is clever, Malfoy; I’ll give you that. But you’re forgetting one crucial thing: we don’t cheat. We don’t break the rules,” Garcia declared.

Draco took another drag from his cigarette in exasperation. “Don’t let your bloody honor stop you from winning this cup.”

George scoffed. “Piss off, Malfoy. Not everyone’s willing to cheat and give up their integrity just to win.”

Draco threw his cigarette to the ground; and took his heel and stomped on it.

“Maybe, but nothing feels better than winning. Think this over, Garcia and come back to me when you’ve come to your senses,” he said.

Draco started walking away from the Quidditch field, and heading back to the castle. 

“Don’t hold your breath!,” Garcia yelled from behind Draco’s shoulder.

“I’m a patient bloke, Garcia” Draco responded over his shoulder.

He was definitely going to be late for patrol and Granger was certainly going to have his head.   
***********

Granger had her arms crossed, making her displeasure transparent. 

Much to Draco’s own displeasure, she had chosen to wear slacks instead of her occasional uniform skirt. 

“Before you start, Granger, I know that I’m late and I’m sorry,” he quickly told the witch. 

Granger huffed. “Where were you? You’re ten minutes late. I have so many assignments that I need to do.”

Draco wanted to correct her and tell her that she wouldn’t have made much headway in any assignment, within a matter of ten seconds. But he held his tongue instead.

“I got busy with a Quidditch thing. The match against Ravenclaw is in a couple of weeks; I’ve been busy with some last minute practice,” muttered Draco. It was a version of the truth, excluding some key facts.

Granger looked at him suspiciously. “You skipped dinner just to go practice alone?”

Draco started strolling for their patrol. “I never said that I was alone.” 

“Well the entire Slytherin Quidditch team was at the Great Hall for dinner, so I can’t imagine who else you would be practicing Quidditch with,” she said haughtily.

Draco grinned. “You’re tracking my interactions? Who’s stalking who now, Granger?” 

Her nostrils flared and her cheeks reddened from his jape.

“Me…stalking you? You’re impossible,” she rambled angrily, as she started walking faster.

He sniggered. “I’ve been called far worse.” 

Granger glared at him. “I’m sure you have.”

They walked in silence, occasionally running into some students lurking the halls post curfew. 

Draco finally decided to break the silence.

“I was thinking about changing the prefect’s patrol schedule, unless you want to do it your self,” he offered to her.

Granger looked perplexed. “…Why would we need to change the prefect’s patrol schedule?”

Draco glanced at her, lingering on her face. “You can’t possibly think that we can allow Weasley to patrol with Pansy anymore?”

He watched the realization sink on her face. “Right, I don’t know how soon Ron will be attending classes and picking up Prefect duties again… but if you want to make the new chart, you can.”

“You mean it’s a miracle that he hasn’t been stripped of his prefect’s duties…” Draco muttered sarcastically under his breath.

“Do you have something that you would like to say, Malfoy?” Granger challenged him testily.

Draco scowled. “I have about 50 fucking things that I would like to say, Granger. But I don’t have the energy to spend all night arguing with you. I’ll fix the damn chart.”

Granger huffed once more and picked up the pace of her walking. Draco was pretty sure he heard her murmur about how she could show him 50 ways to stick the chart up his ass.

It took every fiber of his being to stop himself from telling her that he could think 50 ways her mouth could be better spent on him.

“So what’s the deal with you and Potter?” Draco instigated nosily. He always loved every opportunity to get under Granger’s skin.

She gave him a cross look.

“None of your damn business, Malfoy,” she snapped back.

“Come on, humor me. The way the two of you glared at each other in the Great Hall today. Something definitely happened there and I’ll bet 20 galleons that Weasley’s involved in the middle of it,” Draco said, carefully reading her face for any reaction.

Her facial muscles tensed at his mention of Weasley’s name. 

“We all have our own conflicts. I don’t ask you about your personal life. No, because it’s rude to ask about things that don’t concern yourself,” she said snidely.

Draco raised his arms up defensively. “You can ask me anything that you want, Granger. I’m an open book.”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t insult me, Malfoy,” she said dryly.

“Try me,” retorted Draco. “Ask me anything you want, and you can judge the verity of my answer.”

Granger looked at him for a brief moment and silently continued walking, her face deep in thought. 

What had she wanted to ask him? Why didn’t she just ask him? Did she think he would have been offended by the question? The questions plagued him. 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as Granger suddenly stopped walking abruptly.

Draco frowned and looked ahead to see what could have caused such a reaction from Granger and instantly understood why she had, once his eyes focused on what her’s had.

Bartholomew Parkinson was walking furiously towards Draco and Hermione. 

For a split long several seconds, Draco truly had no idea what to do. He hadn’t seen Pansy’s father for ages. 

Bartholomew Parkinson had always been as inviting as Draco’s own father had been, as inviting as a dementor.

“Mr. Parkinson…,” Draco addressed his ex-girlfriend’s father, not failing to realize the awkwardness of the situation.

“Draco, my boy,” Bart reached forward to shake Draco’s hand stiffly in a bone-crushing handshake whilst not smiling. “It’s good to see you again, although I wish that the circumstances had been different.

The stony-looking mogul looked over Draco’s shoulder at Granger and curled his lip in disgust.

“Well I see that McGonagall’s no better than Dumbledore letting just about anything into this school,” he said nastily.

Draco’s stomach churned. He turned slightly to see that Granger’s face had flushed, but she was silent. It was as if she was ashamed to be in the presence of Parkinson.

He would have much rather listened to Granger admonishing him for hours, than listened to Bartholomew Parkinson’s dig at the Gryffindor.

Draco quickly said, “Actually, Hermione is the Head Girl.”

Parkinson glowered at him with a steely face. “I know exactly who she is, boy,” he said dangerously. “You think I don’t know who was behind my daughter’s attack?”

“What are you here for, Mr. Parkinson? Last I checked, Pansy will be returning to classes shortly,” Draco inquired, hoping to draw attention away from Granger. 

Parkinson laughed scornfully. “My daughter was viciously attacked, I’m not here solely to check on her status. I’m here to make sure that, that mudblood lover Arthur Weasley’s son spends the rest of his miserable life in a cell at Azkaban. 

Granger’s face paled as her eyes widened as big as saucers.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Parkinson. I’ve tried speaking with McGonagall, but she’s been adamant on letting Weasley not being charged with any offense,” reasoned Draco.

“And that’s exactly why that old slag won’t be handling my daughter’s case,” responded Parkinson viciously.

But if McGonagall wouldn’t be handling Pansy’s case, then that could have only meant one thing…

Draco began to realize exactly what Pansy’s father had done. “Mr. Parkinson, you cannot be serious-”

“Finally caught on, have you now, boy? That’s right. I brought the Ministry in to do a thorough investigation on that Weasley prat, and contest Minerva McGonagall as Head Mistress of Hogwarts,” said the mogul with finality. “By the end of all of this, I’ll make sure that everyone who was behind this atrocity, has paid.” 

Draco immediately locked his eyes with Granger’s and saw that the look of fear cemented on her face. 

Bartholomew Parkinson had just brought a storm to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter. Please review and leave comments! I would love to hear your thoughts. Once again, happy holidays to all of you!


	15. Three's a Crowd, Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back with the first chapter of 2017!
> 
> I want to apologize for going off the radar and not updating for nearly 6 months. I’ve had a lot going on with my personal health (exhaustion) and sort of lost my will to write. 
> 
> This chapter might be a bit shaky, I’ve lost my style, having been gone for so long.
> 
> I want to thank fashionia and bellenbeau for messaging me and getting me excited to write. Seriously guys, your messages got my writing wheels turning again. This chapter is dedicated to you both. 
> 
> Thank you to all of my wonderful friends as well. You guys always pleasantly keep TWBB in my minds :P and never fail to stay invested in the story. I love all of you dearly/ 
> 
> And lastly, thank you Maricar! Thank you, Moony, for having the patience to re-read all 14 chapters of TWBB and for helping in my creative process. And thank you for going to the Harry Potter concert with me, which caused my writer’s block to finally end. I dedicate this chapter to you as well.
> 
> Please review and leave comments!

Hermione Granger found herself running. Her heart was in her throat, forcing her to breath erratically. Her eyes were failing her, hardly seeing the walls clearly. Her thighs were aching, begging her to cease for a moment. 

“I brought the Ministry in to do a thorough investigation on that Weasley prat, and contest Minerva McGonagall as Head Mistress of Hogwarts.”

“By the end of all of this, I’ll make sure that everyone who was behind this atrocity, has paid.”

The Gargoyle statue. She had to get to the Gargoyle statue.

A foggy figure appeared in front of her. 

“Hermione! I-”

“Get out- of my way!” Hermione heard herself shout, as she charged past running up a revolving staircase. 

The voice had sounded a whole lot like Ernie Macmillan’s. She hadn’t meant to be impolite, but there just wasn’t anytime. There would be plenty of time later to apologize to the Hufflepuff. Right now all that mattered was McGonagall. 

Assuming that McGonagall was still even at the school. 

Amelia Bones was barely a shadow of what Rufus Scrimgeour had been and she didn’t possess any of his fortitude.

If Bartholomew Parkinson wanted McGonagall gone, he had the perfect spineless Ministress of Magic to do his bidding. 

And Ron. Oh Merlin, Ron. 

The Gargoyle corridor. She was finally at the Gargoyle corridor and at her wit’s end.

Her feet finally stopped moving and she leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. Her robe was clinging to her back, drenched in sweat. 

Hermione stared at the Gargoyle statue with dread. She was breaking about a dozen different school rules being here, but it was McGonagall.

She couldn’t just let them take her. 

A voice in her head mocked her.

You can’t stop them even if you wanted to. You’re powerless. You are nothing. 

Hermione shook her head.

“Beetle Buttons,” she said firmly to the Gargoyle. 

The Gargoyle stepped aside and the staircase appeared. Hermione hurried up the stairs. 

The Headmistress’ door was shut but she could hear the voices arguing inside, from outside of it.

“The Ministry cannot allow for this atrocity to occur at Hogwarts, Minerva!”

“Pardon me, but I find that quite hard to believe, Amelia; with what atrocities the Ministry allowed to occur at Hogwarts last year!” 

Hermione quickly chanted “homenum revelio” silently.

With one quick motion, she threw herself under the cloak nearby, hitting into the figure underneath it, brutally. 

“Ow, how the hell did you find me?” groaned Harry Potter, as she sat down next to him.

“Seriously, do you even need to ask,” said Hermione. “How did you know to even come here?” she whispered loudly. 

Harry stuck the Marauder’s Map out at her. “Seriously do you even need to ask,” he replied.

“Point taken,” muttered Hermione. “What have I missed so far?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Parkinson has Bones and Hopkirk terrified and now they’re determined to do McGonagall in,” said Harry. 

Hermione squinted her eyes. “Do you think they have a good case?” 

Harry shrugged. “McGonagall’s been adamant so far. She refused to step down. At one point she told Hopkirk that she would have to forcibly remove her from the Headmistress’ chair, if she wanted her gone.”

Hermione stifled a laugh. “Harry, she did not!”

He grinned. “I swear, I would have given 100 galleons to see Bones’ face at that moment.”

Hermione bit back a smile. She had missed Harry, but she knew this was only temporary. They were only here for Ron, not for each other.

Harry seemed to sense her discomfort and quickly interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s McGonagall. Bones has gone mad if she thinks that McGonagall will just roll over without a fight,” he whispered.

Hermione rested her head back on the wall. “It’s not that simple.”

Harry turned his head to look at her. “What do you reckon?” he asked.

“Bartholomew Parkinson has gold. The Ministry has been bleeding dry from the war. If he’s funneling enough gold into the Ministry, then it’s only a matter of time before McGonagall’s replaced,” said Hermione, sullenly.

Harry clenched his hand into a fist. “That’s not fair,” he said, fiercely. “McGonagall’s the rightful Headmistress of this school. No one else deserves the post more than her! He can’t just walk in here and just change things as he pleases!”

“Lower your voice, Harry, or else you’ll get us caught,” warned Hermione. “I hope he doesn’t, but I’m honestly not so sure anymore. The Parkinson name is old; their Gringotts gold is plenty, and their family has no history with Voldemort. I mean, Ron really picked the worst possible girl to attack.”

The raven-haired boy glared at her at the mention of Ron’s name.

“Don’t you dare blame this on Ron. He’s not the one trying to get McGonagall sacked,” whispered Harry, hotly. 

“No he’s just the one who caused this all to happen and you keep failing to recognize that!” hissed Hermione, furiously. 

They both sat there stewing in silence, refusing to look at each other; until the door spun open. 

Professor McGonagall came into the Gargoyle’s corridor and quickly stopped walking abruptly.

“Potter, you may come out of hiding now,” she said sternly. 

“How does everyone keep finding out that I’m here,” whispered Harry in confusion.

Hermione smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!” yelped Harry, as he quickly took the cloak off of them.

“Hello, Professor,” he said, while rubbing the back of his messy head of hair.

“How fitting that you brought Miss Granger to join along with your eavesdropping,” said McGonagall, dryly. 

“Sorry, Professor,” said Hermione, meekly. “I ran into Mr. Parkinson during my patrol, and I just had to come here.”

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily and moved her spectacles up. “I suppose I should have learned that after eight years, there would be no hoping that you two would have given up your affinity for breaking school rules.”

“Professor, we won’t let them get away with this! Everyone knows that you’re the only person that Dumbledore would have wanted as headmistress,” protested Harry, ferociously.

“I appreciate your sentiment, Potter. It’s highly noble of you. But unfortunately, at this time what I need most from you is for you to stay away from this entire disaster. Gryffindor House has already garnered an excessive amount of negative attention this month.” 

“But Professor-”

“No, listen to me, Potter!” McGonagall said, firmly. It is imperative that you and Granger keep your heads down, now more than ever!” 

Hermione understood. Everyone was already furious about the limited repercussions that Ron, a war hero, had faced.

Now they would be observed under more scrutiny than ever before. McGonagall wouldn’t be able to risk any more misdoings on their part.

Hermione finally spoke. “Professor McGonagall, Ron…Ron, is he going to Azkaban?” 

Harry’s face turned as white as a sheet of paper. 

McGongall looked grimly at them. 

“No…,” whispered Hermione.

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I tried everything within my power, but it simply was not enough,” said McGonagall.

“Where is he? Where is Ron!” demanded Harry.

“Mr. Weasley will be escorted from Hogwarts come the end of this week.”

“To where?” demanded Harry.

McGonagall looked at Harry with so much pity that Hermione’s heart broke. The Headmistress didn’t want to be the bearer of the bad news to Harry. 

But Harry had reached his breaking point. “TO WHERE, PROFESSOR!” he bellowed.

“Azkaban, Harry,” replied Hermione, shouldering the duty from McGonagall. 

“Ron is going to Azkaban.”  
****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione and Harry walked in complete silence from the Headmistress’ office. Each of them lost deep in their thoughts. Hermione would have bet a galleon, that both of their thoughts were featuring Ron. 

Ron was going to Azkaban. She could hardly process the news and the weight behind it. 

Ron was going to Azkaban. Molly and Arthur still didn’t know. Oh Merlin, Molly and Arthur. Ginny and George. Bill and Charlie. Percy. Fred.

Ron was going to Azkaban. She didn’t even know when she would see him next. Would she ever see him again?

Ron was going to Azkaban. Harry wouldn’t be able to handle losing Ron twice. Harry, who would have to be there for Ginny.

Ron was going to Azkaban. Ron would be thrown in a cold cell in Azkaban with savages and Dementors. 

“I’m going to go find Ginny.”

Harry’s voice cut her away from her thoughts.

“Oh.” Hermione couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It had been so long since she had just simply spent time with Harry; just him and her, no Ron, no Ginny. 

“Ginny needs to know. She already knew that I was going to McGonagall’s. She’s probably worried herself sick, with what could be going on.”

“No, it’s fine,” Hermione waved her hand, dismissing him. “You owe me nothing.” 

Harry gave Hermione a piercing look. “If that’s what you think, then that might just be the saddest thing I’ve heard tonight.”

Hermione gulped. “Well I’m sorry to keep disappointing you then,” she rasped.

Harry’s eyes blazed. “More like you should be more sorry about disappointing yourself,” he retorted. 

“I was going to say that maybe you had gathered your wits and wanted to come with me, to comfort Ginny, because she’s family. But I suppose that doesn’t mean much to you these days, does it?” he snapped.

Hermione didn’t bother stopping him as he walked away from her. 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

These days the only thing Anthony Goldstein seemed to have on his mind was Quidditch. The Ravenclaw captain was scheduling practice daily. Not that Hermione was   
complaining about it. Usually the Ravenclaw was too tired to talk after practices and Hermione wasn’t in a chatty mood anyways.

Tonight was proving to be no different.

They were making out in the Quidditch pit. Hermione was determined to get her mind off of Ron and Harry and this was the easiest option.

Anthony broke away for a split second. “I’m so sweaty,” he said.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all,” Hermione said breathlessly, leaning down to kiss him once more.

Anthony pulled away once more. “I’m sorry that all I’ve been doing is play Quidditch. I just need this match with Slytherin to go right.” 

“Hmmm, why are you stressed for it,” murmured Hermione. 

“We need to catch the snitch as fast as possible before they injure us for the rest of the season. If only the rest of the team would actually keep the pace up,” complained Anthony.

“Hmmm you’ll be fine, just get back here,” Hermione said, tugging his shirt towards her.

The Ravenclaw chuckled. “I take it you really seeing me play Quidditch?” 

She started working on the corners of his Quidditch uniform. “You guessed right, a point to Ravenclaw,” she whispered before she leant down and bit his lip. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Anthony asked. 

“Sorry,” muttered Hermione, reaching for him once more.

He pulled his head back. “No, seriously.”

Hermione huffed with exasperation. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just get back to this?” 

The Ravenclaw captain looked at her suspiciously. “Is this about Weasley?” 

Hermione pulled back at once. “What are you talking about?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Hermione. Did something happen between you and Weasley?”

“No!” said Hermione, indignantly. “I’m just worried about him, that’s all; and for the record, I didn’t come here to be interrogated by you.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that you’re worried about some bloke you dated only for a month,” argued Goldstein, accusingly.

“Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that you’re worried about a stupid math against Slytherin,” flared back Hermione. 

Goldstein snorted. “As if you understand a thing about Quidditch.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?

“Are you really going to pretend like you’re some Quidditch expert now? You don’t know the first thing about Quidditch,” derided Goldstein.

“Screw you,” spat Hermione. “Malfoy was right, you are such a prat.”

Goldstein’s nostrils flared. He sat up and adjusted his shirt. “Well if Malfoy’s your counter-argument, you’re not doing much for your case now.”

“UGH!” Hermione jumped to her feet. “I get that you’re a Ravenclaw, but not everything has to be a bloody debate with evidence.”

“As long as you concede that you’re wrong,” said Goldstein pompously. 

Hermione tightened her lips. “Like I said, Malfoy was right in calling you a prat,” she said in a mockingly sweet voice. “He just left out the part where you’re also pretentious.” 

“Well, Malfoy’s a wanker who’d say just about anything to get a romp with you, so his opinion’s worthless,” Goldstein countered back. 

“You’ve gone mad. I disgust Malfoy, at best. You just can’t handle that you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Hermione shot back.

Goldstein leaned back and started laughing. He shook his head.

“What the bloody hell are you laughing at?” accused Hermione, indignantly.

He stopped laughing and stared crossly at her. “You’re actually serious right now?”

“What,” said Hermione, flatly. 

“Malfoy, he looks at you like he’s dying at a desert and you’re the only well of water there! You’re just too oblivious to see it.” 

Hermione felt her cheeks tinge. “He does not!” she shrieked. “You’ve officially lost it,” she said, shaking her head at him.

“Have I?” said Goldstein with suspicion. 

She looked at him with alarm. “Ye-yes. It’s Draco Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! He would never touch anything that doesn’t have pureblood in it,” she protested.

Goldstein gave her a dirty look and stood up. 

Hermione crossed her arms. “What the hell is your problem?!”

He picked up his broom forcefully. 

“My problem, Hermione, is that you live with the most foul bloke at Hogwarts, and that same bloke happens to fancy you,” he said, irritatedly.

“And for the record, not once did you say “no Anthony, you haven’t lost your mind. I would never touch Draco Malfoy,”” Goldstein said, bitterly.

Hermione didn’t bother stopping him as he walked away from her. 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“Veritaserum!” 

Hermione walked past the bewildered Baron portrait in a flushed hurry. She was too enraged for meaningless pleasantries with him. 

Without a fail, Draco Malfoy was at the common room table doing what appeared to be the potions assignment. 

Hermione charged at the table and slammed her hands on it with excitation. “I need to talk to you,” she demanded.

“Well hello to you too, Granger,” the Head Boy muttered sardonically; his eyes not looking up from his paper, his quill still moving.

Hermione huffed. “Hello, Malfoy, I need to talk to you speak with you,” she said, gritting through her teeth. 

Malfoy finally looked up from his parchment and glanced at her chest and then at her face. He raised an eyebrow at her quizzically.

Hermione looked down at her shirt. She had missed a button in her hasty attempts in storming off the Quidditch field.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and quickly fixed the button.

“Classy, Granger,” Malfoy said stonily.

She glared at him.

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not,” she snapped.

Malfoy raised his hands in defeat. “By all means, Granger, go on,” he drawled.

“I just came back from watching the Ravenclaws practice and I spoke to Anthony and that prat told me what they’re planning on doing for the match against Slytherin.”

Malfoy dropped his quill.

Hermione smirked, she knew she had him.

The blond picked up his glass of gin next to his textbook and took a contemplative sip.

Hermione continued. “They’re planning on having three of their players surround Anthony, that way none of the Slytherins can attack him.”

“They’re not going to bother playing defense for the game. They know they’re faster than the Slytherin beaters, so they’re only going to focus on scoring points and making sure that no one can touch Anthony.”

Malfoy’s silver eyes flashed with something that Hermione couldn’t read.

“I don’t buy it. This just reeks of stupidity, Granger. It’s too easy for Goldstein to just send his girlfriend to hand me the strategy two weeks before our game.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” argued Hermione.

Malfoy scoffed. “I appreciate your effort to help your boyfriend win, but don’t bother wasting my time with this,” he snarled.

“I’m not, you git. I’m trying to help you!” Hermione protested.

“Don’t insult me, Granger. Why would you ever bother telling me your boyfriend’s strategy. You would never want me to win against him,” growled Malfoy. He grabbed his quill once more and began scribbling.

“Except what if I did.”

The Head Boy looked up at her. 

“The wanker thinks that he’s smarter than me at Quidditch and that my opinion on the subject is worthless. So do me a favor, Malfoy, be the absolute tosser that I know you can be and knock him down a peg.”

Malfoy smirked. “So…you’re betraying him because he called you stupid. Remind me to never insult your intelligence, Granger.”

Hermione glowered at him.

Malfoy laughed. “He’s the one who said it, not me, Granger.”

“Just win, you…Malfoy,” she said his name with as much disdain as she could mutter. 

Malfoy sniggered and went back to writing his assignment.

Hermione stood there debating what she wanted her next actions to be.  
Don’t talk to him…He’ll only get mad. 

But he’s the only one who can answer your questions.

Malfoy looked up at her once more.

“Was there more, Granger,” he asked, monotonously.

Hermione looked into his cold gray eyes, still debating if she could trust him.

Malfoy looked at her as if she had grown a hinkypunk on her face. 

“I need to talk to you about something and I’m going to need you to be a real person for a few minutes.”

“I think you’ve forgotten that you’re talking to a foul, evil, loathesome little cockroach,” drawled the Slytherin. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head in contempt at him. She started walking away from him.

“Oi Granger!” She heard him call. “Get back here.”

She turned to look at him.

“I was kidding, Granger. Have you ever heard of a joke? Lighten up. What do you want to ask me about?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I need you to talk to me about Azkaban.”

Malfoy’s smile dropped immeidiately. 

“I’m asking for Ron,” she said bleakly.

“I know why you’re asking,” snapped Malfoy. “I just can’t understand what makes you think that you have the right to-”

“You told me I could ask you anything I wanted,” said Hermione, cutting his rant off. “Well I need answers, and you’re the only person who can give them to me.”

Malfoy stared at her and didn’t speak for a couple of seconds. Finally, he smirked.

“You’re right, I did. But how serious are you about wanting the answer to your question?”

“…Very serious?” replied Hermione, quizzically. 

“Brilliant, just remember that you said that,” he said, chuckling darkly.

Malfoy stood up and put his cloak on. “Grab your cloak, Granger.” 

“We’re going outside? It’s past midnight…” She looked warily outside of their dormitory window. They could be in serious trouble if they got caught this late at night. Hermione shuddered at the thought of being stripped of her Head Girl’s badge. 

Malfoy took his glass of fin and gulped the remnants down. He threw the glass on the table recklessly and started walking away.

“Where the hell are we going?!” She called from behind him, hoping to stop him.

“Do you trust me, Granger?” he drawled, without turning around to face her.

“Absolutely not!” replied Hermione, aghast. 

“Good, you shouldn’t.” 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Malfoy took her to one of the upper floors of Hogwarts. A floor where classes were never held, and guests were kept at Hogwarts. She had been here before. 

Hermione immeidiately recognized this as the room that and Harry had helped Sirius Black break out of during their third year.

“Is something disturbing you, Granger?” Malfoy asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Hermione hastily mumbled. She walked into the room. “What are we doing here?”

Malfoy ignored her and took out his wand and quickly muttered a series of silencing spells. “I’m going to need your wand,” he said, calmly. 

Hermione immediately turned her heels to look at him.

“Do I look like a moron to you? You take me to a deserted chamber, put up silencing charms, and now you want me to just hand you my wand like it’s the simplest task? Do you think I’m one of those doe-eyed Slytherin girls who would do anything to let you have your way with me?”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed with something that Hermione once again couldn’t surmise. He raised his eyebrows, un-amused. “Are you finished?”

Hermione gave him a dirty look and silently nodded her head.

“Excellent, you wanted my help. Your wand, Granger,” he demanded. 

She reluctantly handed him over her wand. “Now what? You kill me?” she accused, indignantly.

Malfoy remained unfazed, ignoring her jibe. “Granger, how well do you know Occlumency?”

Hermione was silent.

“That’s what I thought. That’s helpful, I suppose; although it will make what we’re about to do all the more painful,” Malfoy said, warily. “Do you know what I’m getting at?” 

“You’re about to perform Legilimency aren’t you?”

“An advanced form of it. I’ll still penetrate your mind, but your body will still feel the sensations that Dementors would trigger. But I’ll only do so if I have your permission. This sort of magic is meant to hurt its target and is never gentle on the body.”

“If you don’t want this, take your wand and we can leave and never speak of this again.”

Hermione shook her head, “no, I was the one who asked. I need to know what Ron’s in for.”

“I’m warning you, you’ll scream at me to stop and I won’t be able to,” cautioned Malfoy.

“I said yes, didn’t I,” said Hermione, adamantly. 

Malfoy’s eyes bore into her’s.

“Sit down, Granger,” he ordered.

“On the bed or the floor?” she asked monotonously. She could tell jokes too.

Malfoy didn’t seem amused from her comment. “Your preference, although I doubt that they’ll give Weasley a bed in his cell, even if he is a celebrity.”

Hermione glared at him and slumped on the floor. “I did ask for the authentic experience.” 

Malfoy took out his wand carefully and stare at her once more, as he ran his fingers along his wand.

“Well go on then,” she pressed, impatiently. He was carrying this on for no reason. “Get on with it.”

He quickly put her out her misery. 

Malfoy swished his wand. “Legilimens,” he said firmly with a stony face. 

At that moment, Hermione instantly felt her body seize. The air had suddenly become chilly, as if they were out in the snow with no clothes on. 

Her vision began to blur and she could no longer see Malfoy standing in front of her. It was her mother instead.

Her mother was in the kitchen, rubbing jam on toast. Her father was reading the morning post. A little girl was sitting on a high chair babbling. 

“Oh we mustn’t push her into Dentistry. Hermione could be a pilot for all we know!” Her mother pressed on. 

“What the bloody hell is dentistry?” Malfoy’s voice came behind her. 

Hermione spun around and saw the tall shadow behind her. “Is this is the best you’ve got?” 

She felt herself get dragged in a foggy whirlwind. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders as tightly as she could. It was frigid and her teeth couldn’t stop chattering loudly.

The fog dissipated and suddenly she recognized that she was in the Gryffindor common room and there was cheering. It was a celebration of some sorts. 

“Weasley is our king!”

Her eyes roamed around the crowded common room. There she saw herself and Harry focused in another direction.

She watched as Lavender Brown approached Ron, before throwing herself in his arms. Her eyes were glued as Ron slobbered all over Lavender. 

It was just so cold. Her body was turning to ice rapidly. It would only be a matter of time before she would stop breathing.

Ron couldn’t handle this. Hermione knew it then and there. 

Ron, who was already broken. Who was the last of all of his brothers. Who wasn’t a Head Boy or a Quidditch Captain. 

She tried to open her mouth and scream that the Dementors would finish him. That Harry, Ginny, and Charlie couldn’t let them take Ron. They had to stop Ron from getting to Azkaban. 

But she couldn’t lift her tongue. 

And the fog was coming again. She wanted to protest and say that it was too soon. Her body couldn’t handle another vision. She just needed to find Harry. But her lips were frozen in place.

Suddenly they were at a funeral. Hundreds of witches and wizards had their wands held high. She watched as Harry approached Professor Dumbledore’s dead corpse. Luna was silently crying. Ginny was watching Harry. 

Hermione felt a tight hand drag her out of the vision and suddenly she was thrown into another one. 

The fog had evaporated abruptly and what she saw next made her throat instantly tighten. 

Her mother and father were sitting at a table at their dining room. They had just finished supping. 

No, no, no, NO.

Stop it. 

She willed for the fog to come back. For anything to make the view distort; unfortunately for her, her vision was clean and precise as ever.

She frantically tried to move her body but it was pure stone now. She was immobilized.

“When do you leave to join Harry and Ron?”

Stop it, Malfoy. Make it stop.

“These horcruxes…how long will it be until we see you again?” 

I’m begging you, Malfoy. Get out of my head. 

“We just want you to be safe, Hermione. Sometimes I wonder if it would have just been more simple had we never sent you to Hogwarts.”

“Our only child going off into hiding. What kind of mother could possibly be happy with this, Hermione?”

I can’t endure this. Don’t make me watch this, please. Just make it stop.

“Promise me that you’ll write to us every day? I won’t be able to sleep at night, not with the possibilities of what you might be facing.”

Please, Draco. PLEASE. 

“Obliviate.” 

And there was just black.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione felt an immense pressure coming down her head. Her arms were flailing about. She slowly opened her eyes and found that all she could see was the ground.

It took her a couple of seconds to realize the predicament that she was in. 

Draco Malfoy was carrying her over his shoulder, walking close to the Head’s chambers. 

She wasn’t sure if she was having difficulty breathing from the lack of air going to her brain, or from Malfoy’s arms around her thighs.

“Malfoy. Malfoy! Put me down!” she shrieked. 

Within seconds she felt herself being lowered. Once she had reached the ground, Hermione quickly tidied herself as quickly as she could.

Malfoy watched her silently with the utmost concern. His unease was apparent, as if he was preparing for her to send a hex his way.

“How long was I out for?” she asked, hoping that it would make this horrendously awkward situation tolerable.

“About 30 minutes,” he said, warily. “I’m impressed that I managed to get you here this far without anyone seeing.”

“I’m shocked you didn’t just leave me there,” said Hermione.

Her words seemed to have vexed him as his eyes flashed with steely anger. “As comforting as it is to know that you think so low of me, Granger, I’m not a complete tosser. I wouldn’t just leave you there after all of that,” he growled. 

Hermione bit her lip nervously. She didn’t have the energy to pick another row tonight.

“Thank you.”

Malfoy’s gray eyes lit up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said thank you, Malfoy,” Hermione said a bit louder, painfully. 

“No, I heard you the first time. It’s just that it isn’t every day that the great Hermione Granger expresses gratitude,” said Malfoy, sarcastically.

Hermione bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. “Shut up.”

Malfoy smirked at her and then he quickly became stoic once more. “Did I answer your question?” he asked seriously.

“About how Azkaban drives a person to the point of insanity?” she responded. “That you most certainly did.”

“Sorry,” he grimaced. “I did give you fair warning.”

“No need to apologize, Malfoy. Like you said, I sought you out first.”

He stopped walking for a moment to stare at her. “That doesn’t make it any easier. Especially not after seeing the things that I saw. Granger, why didn’t you-”

“Okay we’re not going to talk about this,” Hermione said with nervous laughter.

Malfoy’s gray eyes bore into her’s. “Granger, what I saw-”

She cut him off once more. “What you saw- I haven’t shown anyone else, ever. I don’t want to talk about it either.” 

The Head Boy pressed his lips. “Fine.” He started walking again. 

“I do have a question for you though.”

Malfoy stopped walking and turned around again. “What?”

“How did you leave Azkaban unscathed? You were in there for long enough. How did you not go insane?” Hermione implored, her curiosity getting the better of her.

She couldn’t tell if she had upset him with her question. His face was impossible for her to read.

“Who said I ever did?” He responded, dryly. 

“I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I. If I’ve given you the impression that I’m perfectly sane, then I’m proud to say that I have you fooled, Granger,” Malfoy drawled. “Underneath all of these good looks, hair, and charm, lie layers of untouched madness.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, here’s hoping that Ron learns to hide it as well as you do,” she muttered.

Malfoy’s eyebrows burrowed at the mention of Ron’s name. 

“You’re far too optimistic given your acumen, Granger,” he said, coldly.

Hermione scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave her a look. “Come on, Granger. As far as I’m aware, Weasley is no occlumens. There’s no bloody way he’ll be able to prevent the Dementors from penetrating his mind. It’s only a matter of time before he gives in.”

She felt tears beginning to well at her eyes. “You are such an ass!” she spat at him.

“I’m ass but that doesn’t make the truth any less real!” He yelled back at her. “I heard your thoughts back there. You said it yourself, Weasley’s in over his head. He won’t, he can’t survive in Azkaban. You just don’t have the nerve to say it out loud because then it’ll make all of this real. You need to make me the bad guy for saying what you can’t bear to say. Fine! I’ll be the villain for you then, I’ll take it; because you need to hear it!”

Hermione angrily brushed the tears out of her eyes, before they could fall. She refused to cry in front of him. 

“For someone who’s so hell bent on crucifying Ron, I wish that you would just take one solid moment, to self-reflect,” she said with her voice shaking.

His face twitched with anger. “Real classy, Granger. You had to resort to the old “you’re a death eater” card? Are you satisfied now? Tell me, how does that take away from Weasley being rightfully charged?”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALMOST KILLED KATIE BELL!” Hermione exploded, her rage finally besting her.

Malfoy’s face turned as pale as snow. 

“YOU sent her to the hospital wing for half a year, and not once did you blink an eye!” 

“AND YOU ALL DEMONIZED ME FOR ALL OF SIXTH YEAR!” Malfoy roared back. “

Hermione froze. She hadn’t prepared for this.  
“All of you hounded me during sixth year. You went around telling any and every professor that would listen, that I was an evil piece of scum. You tried to get me expelled every minute you could. And now the second the heat is on Weasley, all of you scream about injustice? Why don’t you take a minute to “self-reflect”?” He said, condescendingly while pointing his finger at her.

“I did my time, Granger! Hate me all you want to, but I did my fucking time. If you want to be fair, then at least accept that Weasley needs to do his.” Malfoy moved his cloak quickly and spun around to walk away. He stomped his feet loudly. 

“Malfoy,” Hermione called out from behind him. He stopped in his steps, but didn’t turn around to face her. She could see his shoulders shaking in fury.

“What could you possibly have left to say Granger?” He said icily.

“I don’t hate you,” Hermione said. “I’m scared- no, I’m just terrified for what will come of Ron. He’s going to Azkaban with no hope; he’s going with nothing. You know what that feels like more than anyone. And you’re right. I hate saying that more than anything, but you’re right.”

She watched the back of Malfoy’s dark frame, as he refused to turn around to face her. 

“You’re wrong.”

Hermione looked up. “About…?” she asked, confused.

“Weasley and I aren’t the same. He’s going to Azkaban with a whole lot more than just nothing. He gets to leave knowing that he has you; that you’ll still be his when he comes back. I would have killed for that,” Malfoy said coldly. 

“Veritaserum,” he muttered to the Baron, who tipped his hat and swung the portrait around. Malfoy walked in, without looking back, and the portrait shut once more. 

“Malfoy, he looks at you like he’s dying at a desert and you’re the only well of water there! You’re just too oblivious to see it.” 

Hermione felt a flame run through and loosened her hand around her cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please leave reviews and comments. They’re pretty much the only thing that give me an incentive to write these days. See you guys at the next update!
> 
> Also if any of you guys want to get in contact with me to write faster, please feel free to message me on pandachanda.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: Please submit your comments/ review with your thoughts! Any feedback would be helpful! I’ll have the next chapter up soon.


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